Happily Ever After
by VioletQueenMarie
Summary: In 17th century Europe, seventeen-year-old Rosemarie Mazur struggles dealing with her broken, divided family and a pursuit from England's prince, after her mother's death. When she begins falling for Russia's damaged, crown prince, a dark force decides to destroy her once and for all. Will Rosemarie successfully find her happily ever after? It's Cinderella-inspired. AU and AH.
1. Chapter 1: A Wicked Arrival

**Hey everyone! This is my first story and it's Cinderella-inspired, but with a different plot and different twists centered around the VA characters. I've been thinking about this for months, and I'm so happy to finally be writing and sharing these ideas. With that said, I hope you all enjoy reading it, and we'll see how this goes! XD**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

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 **Part One**

 **RPOV**

I stood outside in a pale blue, plain, modest dress that fell to my knees, with white stockings and simple black shoes. My luscious, dark hair sat in a neat bun. No makeup was powdered onto my face. No adornment sparkled my ensemble.

After the death of my mother, Lady Janine Mazur, I had found no reason to be the center of attention. I hid behind plain clothes, despite being a nobleman's daughter, and only had a few friends. Even though I had always been a beautiful girl—a young woman with soft curves, flawless skin, dark chestnut eyes, and gorgeous hair—I didn't flaunt or exploit it. I believed that beauty came from within, and it should be viewed as an undiscovered, masked treasure.

Kindness, love, and a pure heart was all that mattered.

The sky was nearly black, and the utter grimness of the clouds threatened to depress me. A strong, earthy smell filled my senses—rain was approaching. Suddenly, the sound of wooden wheels bouncing along cobblestones surfaced. A fanciful carriage stopped in front of Mazur Manor, the sophisticated coachmen abandoning the reins to attend to the passengers. A black door opened to reveal three ladies clad in delicate, expensive clothing. Their dresses were colorful and wide as they walked to me, haughty looks etched onto their pale faces.

"Excuse me, housemaid, but do you know where Lord Mazur is?" asked the older woman in a snotty voice, her jade-green eyes staring with obvious disgust.

I gave a polite smile despite the hurt stabbing at my chest. "I'm sorry, madam, but I am not a housemaid. I am Rosemarie Mazur, your stepdaughter," I corrected as dignified as possible.

She blinked in surprise, her action mirrored by the two, younger ladies that seemed to be my age. The woman placed a hand to her throat. "Oh, you're my husband's daughter?" She gave a scrutinizing, judgmental look before pretending to be nice and sincere. "Please forgive me, dear, I had no idea. I am Lady Rhea Dragomir, your new stepmother. And these are your new stepsisters, Vasilisa and Jillian," she introduced, gesturing to them.

I hoped these girls were nice...Their mother already wasn't...

And the last thing I needed in my life was torment.

Putting my hand out, I said, "Pleased to meet you, Lady Dragomir." Even though I had implied that I was a lord's daughter, she pursed her thin lips and frowned at me like some peasant. When my stepmother refused to make contact, I dropped my hand and held my head down, silent as the dead. She gave a cruel laugh that sent shivers down my spine. I had a sudden urge to bolt into the manor and lock myself in my bedchamber.

Suddenly, Vasilisa came forward, followed by Jillian. They held out their hands. "It's great to—" Rhea stopped her daughters from finishing by sending them a sharp glare. The girls obeyed, much to my dismay, and folded their slender arms over their small chests, copying their mother's glare. It was getting so uncomfortable that I just decided to talk.

"So, do you have any luggage?" I wondered kindly.

Rhea gestured to the parked carriage with a gloved hand, the silk fabric seeming stark against the dark sky. "Yes. It's in the passenger area. The coachmen will help you," she answered haughtily, her pale green eyes filled with absolute disgust again. I kept my gaze down as I walked over to the carriage and began taking out leather suitcases. They had so many that it was borderline ridiculous.

I struggled getting them into the manor, my legs buckling as I moved. Rhea, Vasilisa, and Jillian just stood aside watching me in sickening amusement as I made a fool of myself. When I reached the steps, my foot missed one and I tumbled to the concrete, scraping my stockings and dropping all the suitcases. My stepmother and stepsisters cackled maliciously as they incredibly belittled me. Tears threatened to erupt, but I held them back and remained strong.

There was no way I would let them break me.

After recovering, I stood up and dusted off my dress. There were a few smudge marks from the fall, but it could be easily cleaned out. Right then, my father came out and rushed to me. His presence made the cackling cease. I was glad. "Rosemarie, are you all right?" he asked concernedly, gazing down at my dirty dress and ruined stockings. A horrified look crossed his tanned, handsome face. "Good heavens, what happened to you?"

I kept my eyes away from my wicked stepfamily. "I fell," was all I replied. Father looked me in the eye, searching for truth—it was as if I was staring at myself in a mirror, since we shared the same eye color. He arched an eyebrow in disbelief before nodding and leaving me alone. Father's gaze traveled to Rhea, who instantly put on a sultry smile. She ran into his arms, pressing her body into his. I shuddered.

"Ibrahim! I'm so glad to finally see you, sweetheart," Rhea squealed like a little girl. She pulled back but the proximity was still close. "We left our manor right after lunch, but the ride took ages and the road was painfully bumpy. It was dreadful! The girls and I are so happy to move in," she said sweetly, as if she meant it, as if she loved the idea of becoming one, big, happy family.

Father smiled at Vasilisa and Jillian. "Welcome to your new home, girls. I'm looking forward to you becoming my new daughters and you gaining a new sister," he said wholeheartedly, his chestnut-brown eyes sparkling. They beamed at hearing him accept them as his children, but they scowled at me once he mentioned me as their new sister. I tried to look friendly, yet their glossed lips puckered and their styled hair swung as they turned away.

Father didn't seem to notice—he was too happy.

Rhea, however, grinned evilly and sent me a tortuous stare. This new life was going to be very difficult.

A drop of rain suddenly splattered onto my hair. I cocked my head back and got splattered again on my cheek. Wiping the wetness away, I said, "Father, it is beginning to rain. We must all get inside." Immediately, Vasilisa and Jillian screamed like pansies and clutched Rhea, whining about how they couldn't get their precious dresses wet and ruined.

Father witnessed their behavior and quickly ushered all the ladies inside. I stood alone as the rain fell harder, my hair falling out of its bun, my clothes and shoes becoming soaked. The carriage drove away as the coachmen realized the weather wasn't going to get better. I was finally about to go inside the warm manor when I realized that the leather luggage was still on the concrete. Sighing, I bent down and gathered them in my arms, raindrops dampening the material.

I hoped my stepmother and stepsisters wouldn't be upset, but knowing them, they definitely would be.

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 **How did you like it? Is it worth continuing? Please review and give some feedback. I'd much appreciate it. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Memories and Dreams

**Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs! Yet, I know there can be more, so just keep it coming! I love hearing what you guys think. With that being said, enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

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 **RPOV**

After delivering Rhea, Vasilisa, and Jillian's overwhelmingly heavy suitcases, I went upstairs to my bedchamber. My pale blue dress was dark from nearly being drenched, and the fabric irritated my skin, as if it was viciously glued to me. My poor stockings were ripped, my sturdy shoes were squishing with rainwater, and my beautiful hair was so wet and tangled that I just wanted to pull it out.

Sad and frustrated, I yanked off all my clothes and laid them out on my ebony bedframe to dry. I pulled off my shoes and sat them in an empty corner near my polished bookcase. The only things left were my undergarments—a solid, white brassiere with lace-edged bloomers. I quickly got out of them and grabbed a satin robe, one I hadn't worn since Mother died. It was colored a rich purple, and it actually used to belong to her. Sometimes, it felt like I could smell her scent, as if she was still alive and here with me.

Tears gathered in my eyes, but I forced them away and exited my bedchamber to take a bath. The wide hallway was dark and cold underneath my feet as I walked. The entire floor actually sounded quiet, and I smiled in relief because it meant that Father was at peace or my wicked stepfamily wasn't pestering me. Yet, when I reached the bathchamber, the ivory door was locked.

I waited a few seconds before knocking. "It's me, Rosemarie. I really need to take a bath, so can you please hurry," I informed nicely. My eyes didn't have any time to blink, for the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Vasilisa, her angelic hair wet and pale green eyes furiously annoyed.

She scowled at me. "Go to another bathchamber. Can't you see this one is clearly occupied?"

Before my stepsister could close the door, I countered levelly, "I know, but you've probably been in here for a while, and other people need to use—"

Vasilisa raised a porcelain hand to interrupt me. Her gem-like eyes sparkled with interest as she stared at my robe. My heart instantly dropped. "Where did you get that?" she wondered, almost entranced.

I unconsciously caressed the material with my hands. "It was my mother's," I fiercely answered, hoping to rid Vasilisa's attention, but it only increased it as she saw how valuable it was to me. A devious glimmer dominated her gaze.

"Give it to me," she ordered.

Stepping back, I crossed my arms over my chest, really wanting her to leave it alone. "Absolutely not!"

She glared ferociously at me and immediately, I felt myself succumbing, weakening. Vasilisa came closer, leaning out of the doorway. "Give. It. To. Me," she pressed, taking advantage of my submissive state.

I was about to obey when I remembered that I was naked underneath. Surely, this evil girl wouldn't be so cruel as to take my robe and leave me bare. Right? Killing the doubt, I argued, "I have nothing on under the robe." She considered my words for a few moments, studying my body like some specimen. It almost felt violating.

Finally, she backed away…but held her ground. "Prove it," she taunted, a mischievous look crossing her pretty face.

Sweat beaded on my forehead while my heart thundered against my ribcage. Was she serious? I had just told her the truth; why didn't she believe me? I was no liar. Why would she do this?

 _Because she hates me and enjoys seeing me suffer._

The mental warring was so much that I just decided to dissipate the thoughts and physically answer her question. Closing my eyes, I opened the neckline of the robe just enough to show that I was indeed naked. Vasilisa gave a sinister chuckle, one that sounded identical to Rhea's. I shivered. "You can open your eyes now, you putrid prude," she coldly said.

Slowly, I did as she said then averted my gaze, too embarrassed and disturbed to look at her. However, I could still feel her villainously penetrating glare. "Give it to me after you take your bath. I want you to bring it to my bedchamber, understand?"

I nodded silently.

"Good. Now get out of my sight," Vasilisa hissed.

Without a word, I turned on my heel and sped to another bathchamber, hearing the door shout behind me as it was rudely slammed.

* * *

I sat beside Father in a sapphire-blue dress that had long sleeves and fell to my ankles. My hair was worn loose and hung in soft waves down my back. As always, no jewelry completed the attire, but this time, I decided to wear matching heeled shoes. Rhea sat on his left side with Vasilisa and Jillian sitting across from us. The three of them all had on ruby-red, emerald-green, and royal purple gowns littered with embellishments, their hair in all kinds of styles.

We were eating dinner—salad, soups, meat, and desserts littered the cherrywood table. I'd had to prepare the entire meal, thanks to Rhea, and now it was late into the evening and I was exhausted. No one else felt tired, though; they were just really hungry, and stuffed themselves like pigs. Or, more truthfully, I did.

My mouth was full of chicken as my stepfamily scrunched their faces in disgust. They stared at me expectantly for so long that Father tapped my arm and whispered, "Rosemarie, I know you're hungry, but please eat like a lady. You're repulsing them." Feeling ashamed and a little humiliated, I nodded and slowed my eating.

Rhea smirked before asking me, "You attend Fairston Academy, correct?"

"Yes, madam," I replied before I ate a piece of French bread.

She watched me closely in silence. Rhea shared a look with her daughters before saying, "You know, that's quite a prestigious school. I hear that the most privileged families enroll their children there." I looked up from my plate, curious with where she was going with this. Rhea stirred her tomato soup. "Do you find it difficult? Does it seem too advanced for you?"

Vasilisa gave a harsh laugh, nearly spitting out her clam chowder. "I think so. She rarely has excellent grades, and she's probably struggling to pass her classes," she bullied.

Father looked at me, his dark chestnut eyes wondering if it was true. Jillian chuckled while Rhea reveled in a triumphant grin. I felt so small…I wished I could just crawl into a corner.

Stabbing my salad with a fork, I said, "I'm doing just fine."

A worried look crossed Father's face. He touched my arm. "Are you sure, Rosemarie? If you're having trouble with school, you know you can come to me for help."

Jillian decided to add, "She also doesn't really fit in. Since very privileged kids go to Fairston, they naturally socialize, look wealthy, and act important. Rosemarie just wears simple clothes and only has a few friends." I sent her a hard look, which made her look down at her apple pie, light brown hair covering her face like a curtain. Though, I could see a smirk pulling Jillian's lips.

"Who are her friends?" wondered Rhea, still stirring her soup.

"Mason Ashford, Edison Castile, and Mia Rinaldi," Vasilisa quickly answered. Her pale face frowned and her jade-green eyes seemed to darken. "Their fathers are also lords, but they don't act like they should," she continued a disapproving tone.

Father sipped some red wine then tensed as he gave Vasilisa a chastising look. "It doesn't matter if they don't act like what their status implies. They're good people and they've been Rosemarie's friends ever since she was a child," he defended me.

There was a deafening silence after that and soon, everyone finished eating. I cleared the polished table without any help and thought about how I had just gotten degraded in my own home, right in front of my father. How dare they think that I didn't belong at Fairston and was too dumb for the courses—I was a great student and still dressed finely, just not as outlandishly as them.

My mind was fusing by the time I placed the dishes in the deep sink and washed them clean. _They're not that perfect, themselves. They're just as human and imperfect as everyone else. Those bigoted, light haired, green eyed hypocrites!_

When I finished, I clenched my fists and marched up the wrought, iron staircase. All I wanted was to fall asleep and forget everything that had happened today. I was so tired and felt so horrible…I wished that Mother was here. Once I reached my bedchamber, I closed and locked the door before heading over to the ornate bed. I lifted up the soft mattress and retrieved my red velvet journal with a gold lock.

The matching key was always hidden in my favorite book on the bookshelf. I ran over to it, removing it from the dark shelf and lifting the cover. It lay in a dent of cut out pages that matched its shape. I took out the gold key, put the book in its respective spot, then unlocked my precious journal.

Inside it were my memories and dreams—memories of all the times I'd had with Mother and dreams of becoming a princess, maybe even a queen. It had always been a fantasy of mine, beginning when I was only a little girl. Father used to take Mother and I to the kingdoms of Europe—England, France, Germany—to show us where royalty lived and what palace life was like. It had been absolutely stunning!

A few years ago, we had travelled to Russia. I witnessed the marvelous greatness of the czars—their architecture, achievements, and absolute power. Father had said that the Russian monarchy ruled with a strict hand to keep the country stable and successful.

Currently, the Belikovs ruled Russia, and from what I remembered, Cesarevich Dimitri, the only male heir, had to find himself a bride and become the czar, so his mother could retire from the throne. No one was sure about what had happened to his father, but some claimed that he disappeared…or perhaps even died.

Now that I was almost eighteen, I felt like I could have a chance at becoming his bride. I was beautiful, intelligent, and came from a great family. However, there were other girls just like me, from all different countries, yearning to capture his heart. Also, Rhea was probably going to do everything in her power to have Vasilisa or Jillian become Cesarevich Dimitri's wife.

Not to mention, I was getting treated like a servant in my own home and accepted it, even though I was a prominent lord's daughter. Cesarevich Dimitri wouldn't want his future queen to be someone like me.

I went to my bed and sat down, grabbing a quill from the ebony nightstand. I turned to a blank page and started making an entry, releasing the negativity I felt.

 **September 27th, 1685**

 **Today, Lady Rhea Dragomir and her daughters, Vasilisa and Jillian, moved into the manor after she married Father. I don't like them as my stepfamily—they treat me as someone below them and are controlling the manor, as if it belongs to them. They made me carry their luggage, cook a gigantic dinner, belittled me, and Vasilisa even took Mother's robe away from me and slammed a door in my face.**

 **I wish that Mother was still alive so that I wouldn't have to deal with this. I don't deserve it, and while no one should be treated this lowly, they need to experience what I'm going through and learn a lesson. I hope that tomorrow will be better, but knowing them, that might not happen.**

 **And knowing me, I will obey and attend to their every command, no matter how absurd or cruel.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur (hopefully Czarevna/Czarina Rosemarie Belikova)**

I closed the journal and locked it, setting the quill back on the nightstand before placing the journal back under the mattress and the key into its hiding place. I went to my drawer and changed into a silk, white nightgown, then went to lay down. The purple and white comforter felt cold beneath me. My exhaustion was beginning to take over.

Yawning and curling into a fetal position, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of what my life would be like as a czarevna or czarina of Russia.

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 **The next chapter will have Fairston Academy and the other characters we love and know.**

 **Vocabulary: Cesarevich means "crown prince", Czarevich means "prince", Czarevna means "princess", and Czarina means "queen/empress" in Russian**

 **Don't forget to review!:)**

 **Until next time...**


	3. Chapter 3: From Happiness to Heartache

**Here's Fairston Academy, the other characters, and an inside look at school life. Enjoy reading!**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

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 **RPOV**

Fairston Academy loomed in front of us in all its Gothic glory. The sharp angles of the pinnacles and towers gave it a formidable appearance, emphasizing the gray-black pallor of the stone. Vasilisa, Jillian, and I exited the carriage one at a time and walked towards the school in our painfully heeled shoes. I held all of our totes and was lagging behind because of the large amount of weight. Vasilisa strutted ahead, her platinum-blond hair flying around her like a veil.

"Hurry up, Rosemarie," she ordered. "I can't go inside and look like an idiot who showed up to school without her things." Muttering curses under my breath, I walked faster, strengthening my grip so everything wouldn't fall.

Jillian was slightly behind Vasilisa, her stature not as arrogant as her sister, but still fairly haughty. She seemed more average with her light brown hair, which was in a style that sat atop her head. However, she had the Dragomir eyes, and Jillian couldn't help having the snotty behavior of her family. It was sort of in their nature, I supposed.

I wondered if their biological father acted just as ridiculously. If he went about with a royal essence that lacked title and bloodline. I then began to dwell on Cesarevich Dimitri, someone who was actually royal. Did he act like he owned the world? Did he treat everyone as if they were worthless or beneath him? Would he marry someone who wasn't a princess, but still came from a noble family?

Would he marry someone who behaved like a lower status and allowed it when others treated her as such?

Someone like me?

I was so entangled in my thoughts that I hadn't realized Vasilisa was now right in front of me, her pale green eyes enflamed. "Will you get your head out of the clouds and stop daydreaming?" she spat. "I've been calling you forever, and you haven't been responding. I was looking like an imbecile waiting for you to reply!"

Jillian stood next to her, her slender arms crossed while her brow arched. "What was going on back there, Rosemarie?"

I didn't want to tell them that I was thinking about Cesarevich Dimitri, so I just handed them their totes and waved the matter away. "It was nothing important, really." They stared at me doubtfully for a few seconds before dismissing the issue.

Vasilisa turned on her heel, causing her soft pink dress to twirl around her white heels. "Meet me and Jillian after school, here at the front entrance. Don't bother talking to us during classes or sitting with us at lunch. If you do, there'll be consequences. Understand?" she said, turning back around, staring me down with her jade-green eyes.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and nodded. "Of course."

She put on a victorious smile, seeming very pleased with my obedience. "Good." Vasilisa grabbed Jillian's cerulean sleeve and interlocked their arms, having them strut into Fairston Academy together. I clenched my fists, wanting to throw my tote at their perfectly styled heads. I swear, they were nothing but a couple of wretched fiends. Those rotten pieces of—

"Well, aren't they just lovely." I jerked around to find my friend, Mason Ashford, standing behind me, his soft blue eyes filled with sarcasm. I put on a smile and laughed, placing a gloved hand on my hip.

"You scared me, Mase," I said.

He dramatically bowed and gave my hand an apologetic kiss. "Forgive me, miss, I had no intention of frightening you," he joked. I laughed again and Mason grinned, holding out his jacketed arm for me to grab. We began walking up the stony steps and soon entered the majestic school.

High ceilings and lights loomed over our heads as we walked through the marble hallways. Stained-glass windows were embedded in the dark walls and mosaics of beautiful patterns decorated them. Bumbling students clad in expensive, delicate clothing buzzed all around us, preparing for lessons.

Mason took me to a wooden bench. We sat down and I placed my bag next to my feet. He faced me curiously and wondered, "Why in the Lord's name were you talking to Vasilisa and Jillian Dragomir?"

I sighed and folded my hands in the lap of my blood-red dress. "You saw that?"

"Of course I saw! And it certainly confused me. Those girls are like demons from Hell. You'd never talk to them, Rosemarie," Mason rambled, getting angry just talking about them. His scarlet-red hair seemed darker under the semi-dim light.

I fiddled with my dress, contemplating if I should tell him. I really wished I didn't have to, but he was one of my best friends, and I hated keeping things from him. Taking a deep breath, I gazed into Mason's blue eyes as I explained, "They're my stepsisters. My father married their mother, Lady Rhea Dragomir, just a month ago and they moved in yesterday."

I could see the wheels turning in his head as realization dawned on him. Mason's eyes widened as his mouth fell open. "You mean to tell me that those awful bitches are your _stepsisters_ and their mother is your _stepmother_?" he reiterated in horror. I nodded sadly, feeling horrible for myself as well. But, I quickly became tired of the subject and just wanted to go about my day without thinking about my stepfamily for once.

My hand touched his arm. I pulled him off the bench with me. "Come on, let's get to our first lesson and just forget about this," I suggested rather forcefully. Mason agreed and we walked together down the echoing hallways and up a flight of winding stairs until we reached the lecture room for English History.

Mister Stan Alto was standing at the front of the room, an irritated look etched onto his aging face. He started teaching at Fairston Academy a couple of years ago, but he was downright rotten to his students. He exploited everyone and tried to make them feel as stupid and belittled as possible. Not to mention, he was in love with history, so when students fell distracted or simply didn't care, he got very angry.

I sat in my seat while Mason sat in his, which was on the other side of the room, near our other friend, Edison Castile. He was handsome like Mason, having sandy-blond hair and hazel eyes with tanned skin. I wasn't attracted to them, though—I considered them my brothers.

Edison sent me a friendly smile and waved.

Before I could even respond, Mister Stan Alto slapped his mahogany desk with a long stick. His cold, grey eyes glared at us all. "Open your textbooks to page 52. Get your notebooks and quills ready. This is going to be a long lecture," he warningly instructed.

A soft groan escaped my mouth. This really was going to be a hectic day.

* * *

I was so relieved when the break for lunch arrived. Mason, Edison, and I walked to the courtyard of the school, where students relaxed during non-class periods. The weather was so beautiful—the baby-blue sky illuminated the area as the yellow sun shone from above. We found an empty table and nearly collapsed from tiredness and hunger.

"I want to go home," Mason whined like a child.

Edison lethargically nodded. "Agreed. Physics and Calculus was so horrible! But I think English History was definitely the worst." I nodded in agreement, along with Mason. We began eating our lunches—I just had leftovers from last night's dinner while the two of them had sandwiches and cranberry juice. It was comfortably silent…until Christian Ozera appeared.

He seemed so dark and lonely against the sky's brightness as he went to a secluded table. People stepped aside and whispered about him, watching him with wary and judgmental gazes. Christian Ozera was an outsider at Fairston Academy. The story was that his parents committed treason against the British government, which unfortunately, earned them executions. He had been an orphan for a while until his aunt, Lady Natasha Ozera, took him in.

I felt bad for Christian. He didn't need to be treated as a traitor.

Wanting to talk to him, I stood up and walked over to his table. Students immediately bolted away from me, watching in horror as I sat down across from him. I even felt Mason and Edison sending me insane, concerned looks. Christian looked up, his ice-blue eyes piercing mine. They seemed so guarded…sad… "What do you want?" he demanded.

I took a deep breath. "I want to talk to you."

Christian barked out a humorless laugh. "What? You want to criticize and judge me for being a traitor who's following in his parents' footsteps in plotting against the British government? You want to call me every cruel name in the book? Go ahead, it won't change things," he grumbled, his pale body on edge.

"I didn't come over here to do that. I came here because I wanted to be your friend." Christian eyed me doubtfully, which was completely understandable, and after sitting stiffly for several moments, he finally relaxed.

"I appreciate it, but I don't think that's wise. You still have a good reputation around here. I don't want you befriending me only to have it destroyed," he countered honestly, his raven-black hair sparkling under the sunlight. I knew he was trying to be polite and save me from a life of ostracism, but I didn't care. He was a good person, and he deserved to be given a chance, even if others disagreed.

Flashing a smile, I assured, "It doesn't matter. This can't possibly be more terrible than having Vasilisa and Jillian Dragomir as my stepsisters." At that, Christian dropped his jaw and gaped at me, mirroring what Mason had done.

"They're your stepsisters?"

I nodded sadly.

"My goodness! I suppose that is worse than having me as a friend," he agreed in all truth.

After that, I asked him, "Would you like to sit with me and my friends at our table?" I pointed to Mason and Edison, who quickly turned their heads away and pretended to look at something else. Christian frowned at them, falling back into his dark mood.

"I don't know. They seem unwelcoming." Immediately, I wished I could slap Mason and Edison for judging poor Christian like everyone else. They were better than that, and what they had did immensely disappointed me.

Putting on a convincing face, I leaned forward and hoped to change his mind. "Give them a chance. They're really great friends, and they won't belittle you or isolate you from society. Trust me—they're not like everyone else," I pressed, really hoping Christian would let himself have some friends for once and not assume that everyone in the world was against him because of what his parents had committed.

It took him a few moments to answer. His ice-blue eyes were hard at first, yet they brightened over the course of his thought. I squealed in happiness when he finally gave in. "All right, I'll give them a chance," he decided. Smiling, I grabbed his jacketed arm and led him over to Mason and Edison. They turned their light heads when they noticed us appear.

A nervous look crossed Mason's freckled face, yet Edison elbowed him in the stomach, causing Mason to put on a friendly smile. He awkwardly waved. "It's nice to meet you, Christian," he greeted in a pleasant voice.

Christian simply nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable since he hadn't been in these situations for quite some time. "Likewise. I'm…glad that you are both giving me a chance to be your friend. It's great to finally socialize and connect with people again. I'll admit that I have missed it," he solemnly confessed.

Edison offered a kind, pearly white grin, which matched the twinkle in his hazel eyes. "It's fine, Christian. From now on, you'll have some friends by your side." Christian relaxed at hearing those words and even sat down to begin a conversation with him and Mason. I smiled at the interaction between them, liking the happiness that I was finally having today. Maybe the rest of the afternoon and upcoming evening wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

School ended a couple of hours later, and I stood at the entrance of Fairston Academy, listening to the sonorous bells chime the death of the academic day. Vasilisa and Jillian exited the front door, looking very unhappy, with Mia Rinaldi trailing behind them. She was a year younger than me, but a year older than Jillian, having bouncy, rich blond ringlets and light blue eyes. Her skin was pale like theirs, but she seemed doll-like and young.

Mia brightened when she saw me, running past my stepsisters to give me a hug. "Rosemarie! I haven't seen you all day!" She then pulled back, her eyes deadly serious. "You're stepsisters are absolute nightmares. I had to walk with them after the last lecture, and they completely ignored me as if I wasn't there. They even talked about me behind my back!"

I rubbed her arms soothingly. "I know, but don't listen to them. Just be mature and hold your head high," I advised, feeling slightly hypocritical because I didn't even do those things half of the time. I let them belittle me and treat me like some peasant. Again, I drifted back to Cesarevich Dimitri and his need to have a bride.

 _Would he like me if I met him? Would he love me?_

"Rosemarie, Mia, hurry up! We're about to leave," yelled Vasilisa, who stood by the carriage with her hands on her hips, her eyes glaring tremendously. I pulled Mia along, loading our totes into the passenger area and having her sit beside me. The coachmen urged the horses to move, and we went back to Mazur Manor in a tense silence.

When we arrived, I took all of our things inside. Vasilisa and Jillian wordlessly abandoned us, going up the staircase to their bedchambers, probably to discuss about boys and fashion and makeup. I led Mia into the library so we could do our schoolwork in peace. I opened the oak door to reveal the organized, spacious room.

Books, documents, scrolls, and letters were shelved in alphabetical and chronological order. It smelled of paper and ink, but I found it to be more refreshing than repulsing. Mia stared in awe at the library, walking around to look. "My god, you have everything in here," she breathed.

I went to a desk, where our textbooks lay. Starting with dreadful Calculus, I called, "Are you coming? There's a lot to do."

Instead of answering that, Mia suddenly questioned, "You miss her, don't you?"

I froze and stared up at her, nearly dropping my quill. "What did you say?" All I could do was blink and breathe. Mia noticed my stiff posture, but she pressed on anyway, coming to sit down across from me.

Her blue eyes penetrated mine. "I asked, 'You miss her, don't you?'. It's all right if you do. I can tell," she continued. "You miss your mother so much that you wish Lady Dragomir, Vasilisa, and Jillian weren't here. You hate the idea of them living with you. You hate them ordering you around and taking your stuff—"

"Enough!" I abruptly stood up, causing the leather chair to fall back and hit the ground. My blood-red dress swayed around my legs, as if to calm me, but how could I remain calm when Mia was talking about my _mother_ , the woman who gave birth to me, was practically my best friend, and died after fourteen years of my life?

Mia fell apologetic, a look of realization registering once she remembered what she had just said. She came towards me, yet I backed away. "Rose—"

"No."

"Rosemarie, I'm sorry," Mia pleaded.

"No."

"Please…"

"Leave me alone!" I cried out, feeling the tears cascade down my cheeks. My heart felt like it had a gaping wound, bleeding, hollowing, and draining. It was as if I was dying, and soon, complete sobs wracked my body. Mia watched me with a pained expression on her pretty face, wanting to comfort me yet knowing she had to keep her distance. I collapsed on the cold floor, my dress pooling around me. Mia grabbed her things and silently left, giving me one, last glance before going away.

I didn't get up for several minutes. I lay there sobbing and hurting, wanting the world to just close in on me. When I finally calmed down, I slowly stood up and snuck out of the library, tiptoeing to my bedchamber. Once I got there, I locked the door and collapsed onto my bed.

Fatigue consumed me as a throbbing headache surfaced. I tried to close my eyes to take a nap, but all I could I do was lay there in loneliness as memories of Mother's death haunted my mind.

I cried again.

* * *

 **The next chapter will have info on how Janine died.**

 **More VA characters will soon make their appearance.**

 **As always, don't forget to review!:)**

 **Until next time...**


	4. Chapter 4: Plenty of Surprises

**Thank you for the favs and follows! Enjoy reading.**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

After pouring out my heart and soul with sorrowful tears, I got off my bed—which was now a little damp—and took my journal from its place under my large mattress and got the gold key from the bookcase. The velvet material felt soft as I opened it and went back to my earliest entries, specifically the one when I had found out that Mother died.

My hand mindlessly stroked the dry ink on the off-white page. I could feel the tears gathering again; however, I blinked them away and forced myself to read.

 **December 28** **th** **, 1682**

 **Father is depressingly solemn this evening. He won't leave his private study, and I brought him dinner, hoping that he would let me in, yet he merely cracked the door open and took the plate of food wordlessly before shutting me out.**

 **The reason for his behavior is because Mother died today. She left in a carriage to run errands; however, she got lost and ended up falling into a deep ravine, where she was killed from the impactful injuries, along with the horses and coachmen. That was this morning, and when it became late afternoon, Father decided to go out and look for her.**

 **The weather was hazardous—it was icy, wintry, and blizzardy everywhere. No one could last a minute outside, so people just stayed at home. Mother left before it got horrible, but she didn't come back quickly enough. And sadly, she paid for it.**

 **I am locked in my bedchamber, crying viciously as I write these words. I never thought I would lose my mother this soon, and I wish it wasn't from this cause. I don't deserve to be a motherless child at fourteen years of age.** _ **She**_ **didn't deserve to be taken away from her family.**

 **The funeral is next week, and Mother's body is getting retrieved when the weather calms down. Father hasn't told anyone about what happened, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't have told either.**

 **As I finish writing this entry, I decide to make a vow: I will never cease loving her. If Father marries another woman, I will never forget Mother. I will never lose sight of who she was and who she will always be. No one will replace her spot in my heart.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

Taking a deep breath, I locked my journal and hid it back under the mattress. The key went to rest in its grave of paper and ink that sat on the bookcase. My heart ached from the reading and reminiscing—I could almost picture Mother in the carriage as it began falling into the ravine: confused and terrified while screaming for dear life. Not even having the time to say goodbye to the world as each shock broke her body and sent tremendous amounts of pain. And finally, laying twisted and battered under the carriage like some mangled animal.

I nearly vomited as these mental visuals haunted me. After ridding them, I walked over to the large, full-length mirror and reluctantly observed my appearance.

Staring back at me was a broken stranger. Her dark chestnut eyes seemed swollen and tired; her gorgeous hair looked dull and flat; her skin wasn't a vibrant, gold hue; her body seemed small and fragile in her simple, blood-red dress. Tear stains littered her cheeks in a chalky-white.

Unable to continue peering at my reflection, I brightened up my face and hair. After renewing myself, I exited my bedchamber and headed back to the library. The clicking of my heels echoed on the vintage walls as the light of the hallway guided me to my unattended schoolwork.

When I turned a sharp corner, Vasilisa bumped into me, making an irritated sound. She fixed her soft, pink gown furiously. Her pale face contorted in anger. "Will you watch where you're going? You're not the only one walking through these hallways," she spat very rudely.

Anger began pulsing through me. "You know, it's also important that _you_ watch where you're going. You're not the center of everyone's attention."

Surprisingly, Vasilisa ignored my harsh tone, narrowing her eyes in curiosity as she noticed my face. "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?" she wondered.

Instantly, I shook my head and began laughing the matter away. "They're probably just irritated from the weather. If you'll excuse me, I must resume doing schoolwork. I've a lot to do," I replied, moving forward to go past her. I expected her to leave it at that; however, Vasilisa crossed her arms over her chest, those jade-green eyes serious.

She said suspiciously, "Mia left really early. She didn't say anything to anyone and seemed very guilty and sad. Did something happen?"

I was about to diverge the subject when Rhea came toward us, her ivory dress shimmering under the light of the crystal chandeliers. She smiled at Vasilisa, giving her a loving kiss on the cheek. I wanted to roll my eyes.

Rhea then faced me, her face falling displeased and disgusted. "A lot of chores need to be done around the house. The drapes need washing, drying, and ironing; the fireplace needs dusting; the floors need mopping and sweeping. Also—"

"Why are you having her do the maids' work? Vasilisa questioned.

Rhea answered, "I sent them to their rooms. They're taking the rest of the week off." My eyes widened as my stepmother and stepsister grinned at me sinisterly. How dare those inconsiderate arses order me to complete tasks on top of my own? My fists clenched in fury as I coldly glared at them. "You cannot disobey your elders, Rosemarie. Plus, the maids work incredibly hard; it wouldn't kill you to help."

"Why can't Vasilisa or Jillian do it?" I fired back, seething with impressively suppressed rage.

Rhea coolly responded, fiddling with her black gloves. "Because we just moved in yesterday and Ibrahim wouldn't approve of them attending to loads of chores just yet. He would want them to settle in and adjust to the new living arrangement." I had to admit that it sounded logical, yet this was deeply unfair. Why did I have to be the one receiving this treatment?

"Very well. Is there anything else I need to clean?" I complied as maturely and kindly as I could.

"Our everyday clothes and bedclothes need washing and drying. The dishes need washing and drying. The bedchambers need to be organized. Basically, clean and organize everything in the manor," Rhea summarized finally, giving me no room for argument. Vasilisa chuckled beside her mother as she took pleasure in my punishment.

 _Mason was indeed right. She was an awful bitch and a demon from Hell, like Rhea._

With a single nod, I turned on my heel and went straight to work.

* * *

Fairston Academy's church bells chimed to signify the beginning of lunch, and I painfully sat down at my usual table. Mason, Edison, and Christian watched me as I winced and hissed and groaned with practically every movement I made. The weather was warm, but it couldn't uplift my dim mood. I just wanted to go home and lay down; I had slept horribly last night.

"Are you all right, Rosemarie?" Edison concernedly wondered, getting out a turkey sandwich, fruit, and red wine instead of his normal cranberry juice.

I tried to nonchalantly nod, yet it didn't convince them. After they stared knowingly at me for several moments, I confessed, "No. I'm not all right. My back and limbs ache. I can barely keep my eyes open. And, my hands and feet feel dead." I received multiple astonished, sympathetic looks before Christian decided to delve into the specifics.

"What happened?" he interrogated, his ice-blue eyes attentive.

An exhausted sigh escaped my mouth as I smoothed my hair. "My stepmother is making me clean the whole manor this week. I started last night," I explained, hating having to speak about it. Mason and Edison shook their heads at the horribleness while Christian darkly frowned.

"Why do you let them treat you that way?" he demanded, becoming edgy. "You don't deserve it." It was strange hearing him tell me this, since Christian had been pushed around and judged nearly his entire life. I supposed talking to him yesterday had made him disregard what others thought about him and encouraged him to begin defending himself.

All I could do was shrug and stare at my gloved hands. "I don't know. I never really thought about the reason why I allow my stepfamily to treat me as if I'm second-class," I answered truthfully, not having anything else to say. There was never a time I really sat down alone and pondered the issue. Maybe I should start.

Mason agreed with Christian, his eyes hardened. "Rosemarie, it's quite obvious that they're manipulating you just to feel better about themselves." We all turned to gaze at Mason. He continued, "I think they treat you so terribly because they're jealous."

Jealous? Why on earth would my stepfamily be jealous of me? I was motherless, I didn't act as if I came from a noble household, and I dressed as simply as possible. Not to mention, I recently became friends with Christian, an outsider of society who apparently didn't belong because of his parents' treasonous crimes. Vasilisa and Jillian couldn't possibly be jealous of all that.

"That sounds just about right," Edison agreed. Christian nodded. I didn't respond for a long time until I noticed that I hadn't spoken to Mia since last night. I also hadn't seen her at all today; she was probably avoiding me. Silently, I left my friends to abruptly find Mia, leaving them staring after me in confusion.

It was nicely cool inside the academy. The stained-glass windows and mosaics divided light beams into patterns that sparkled on the shiny floors. I walked all through the hallways for what seemed like forever until I found Mia sitting on a bench with her head down. Her curly, light blond hair hid her face from view while her vibrant, yellow gown looked almost too big for her petite body.

I sat down beside her. "Mia, are you all right?"

At hearing my voice, Mia stiffened and made an attempt to leave; however, I grabbed her forearm and dragged her back down. She faced me so quickly I thought her head would've popped off. "Rosemarie, I'm so sorry. I should've never brought up your mother yesterday. It was personal, and I should've respected that you don't like discussing it," Mia stammered, sounding immensely apologetic.

I looked around, making sure that no one had heard us. After that, I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mia, it's fine. I forgive you. There's no need to feel so horrible towards yourself," I replied in a soft tone to calm her down.

"You're certain?"

"I'm certain."

Mia's light blue eyes brightened as she released a heavy breath. "Good lord! I thought you were going to hurt me back or make me suffer in some tortuous way. I was so scared to come to school today. I tried to stay home, but my parents wouldn't let me," she admitted.

My eyebrows arched in disbelieving curiosity. "Seriously?" It was true that I had been in much pain and sorrow yesterday, and that I wished Mia hadn't broached the subject. However, I hadn't wanted revenge. She had unintentionally caused me to have those feelings, and I wasn't going to obliterate her for it.

She nodded vigorously. "Oh yes! I indeed expected that to happen."

I gave a laugh as I shook my head. "Oh, Mia. I wouldn't go that far," I said.

A blond brow rose. "Are you sure about that?"

I decided to provide no answer. Mia gazed at me knowingly, silently gloating that she was right. After making conversation for a while, we abandoned the bench and headed back to our lunch table. Mason caught sight of our bright gowns and began pointing. "There they are." We sat down and he exasperatedly demanded, "Where've you been?"

Edison folded his arms over his chest. "I believe we deserve an explanation, Rosemarie." He sent Mia a charming smile, and she giggled quietly, blushing profusely. I arched an eyebrow in question; however, Edison was now staring at me, so I left that issue alone.

"I had to talk to Mia," I simply explained.

Christian's ice-blue eyes penetrated my soul. "Care to elaborate?" he pressed.

A shrug shook my shoulders. "Something happened last night, but it's all cleared up now." Realizing that they weren't going to get anymore answers from me, they turned to Mia with demanding gazes. I was sure she was going to burst under the pressure, so I suggested, "Why don't we hurry and eat lunch before the bell chimes?"

The boys reluctantly agreed, claiming that they'd find out sooner or later. After getting them to finally forget the topic, we ravenously ate our food. Not five minutes later, the church bell chimed.

* * *

When Vasilisa, Jillian, and I arrived at Mazur Manor, we all went our separate ways. My stepsisters ran upstairs while I began the evening chores. Before we left for school, I had to hastily—and thoroughly—do the morning chores, which had been washing and drying everything. I had barely finished on time, but they were completed nonetheless.

The first chore I was going to do was sweep and mappe. It didn't take me long to sweep away all of the dust that contaminated the manor. A bucket of soap and water was soon ready, and I retrieved the mappe from the supply closet. I tied my hair into a neat bun and put a clean apron around my waist to prevent my dress from getting dirty. Hitching up my fine sleeves, I gripped the wooden handle and started working.

It felt empty as I was wetting the floors. There were more chambers than people, so it sometimes seemed like no one really lived here, especially since Father usually worked in his study; Rhea lounged in their bedchamber; Vasilisa and Jillian bonded upstairs; and I isolated myself in the library with schoolwork. Likewise, since Mother had died, it was more quiet than usual.

Sometime while I cleaned, a knock sounded on the front door. I paused as Father came out of his study, his suit jacket flying around him, and answered it. A small man spoke a few words before handing him a white envelope. Father closed the door then walked over to me, intrigue crossing his features. "I wonder what's in here," he said.

His calloused fingers started opening the envelope.

Like wolves having scented their prey, my stepfamily rushed down the iron staircase and huddled around Father, pushing me out the way. In the process, I slipped on the wet floor and nearly fell. They paid no attention to me as I glared at them.

"What does it say? What does it say?" demanded Rhea, who was so close to snatching the envelope from Father.

Vasilisa and Jillian mimicked her, their jade-green eyes glazed over in excitement and impatience as they bounced up and down.

Finally, Father opened the message and began reading. His dark chestnut eyes scanned the paper as we all held our breaths. The silence was nearly palpable. After a few moments, he folded the paper back up and placed it gently into the envelope, closing it afterwards.

"Well?" Rhea pressed, her eyes insistent.

Father faced her, surprise dominating his tanned face and deep voice. "Prince Adrian Ivashkov has come back to England, and he's searching for a bride."

* * *

 **Aw, poor Janine died so tragically:(**

 **Vocabulary: "mappe" is an old English term for "mop"**

 **Looks like both Adrian and Dimitri need to marry...;)**

 **Don't forget to review!**

 **Until next time...**


	5. Chapter 5: Going Too Far

**Thanks for the follows and favs! Enjoy reading:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

 _Prince Adrian Ivashkov is here in England?_ From what I've heard, he was a scandalous scoundrel who did nothing but bed various women, smoke cigars, and drink. Finding out that he needed a royal girl to marry was a definite surprise—he didn't seem like the sort of man who'd maintain a long-term commitment to one lady.

Vasilisa and Jillian squealed like blushing schoolgirls and jumped in excitement all around Rhea. Father moved away to give them space, wincing from their loud noise. I secretly rolled my eyes at my stepfamily and went to stand beside him. "They're immensely happy upon hearing his arrival," I noted unenthusiastically. "Did the notice say how Prince Adrian was planning on choosing a bride?"

Father suddenly seemed tired. Slight wrinkles were engraved in his tanned face, standing out like cuts. "It said that his parents, King Nathan and Queen Daniella, will host a party for him. All maidens of at least noble blood are invited. He will get to know the girls and make his decision from there," he replied with disapproval. Father crossed his arms, his dark chestnut eyes darkening. "That bastard's probably going to just bed all of the girls then choose the prettiest," he spat out quietly, grinding his teeth.

I'd never knew Father disliked Prince Adrian this much. Sure, he probably did unspeakable things, but was he really that superficial?

I faced him, curiosity filling my body. "Is all of that true, Father? Does he seriously behave that way?" After asking, I realized that I'd kind of pleaded. I supposed I had this idealistic vision of what a prince should be.

"There've been…instances in the past where Prince Adrian has engaged in…unruly behavior. He likes to throw parties and loves women…" Father cut himself off and shook his head. He then took a deep breath and sighed. "Look, Rosemarie, I know you'd like to go meet him, but I just want you to be careful. Don't involve yourself with someone like him."

Before I could respond, Vasilisa shoved me out of the way, her jade-green eyes lit with disbelief. "Prince Adrian is not like that at all. He's an amazing man!" She flipped her platinum-blond hair over the shoulder of her silver-gray dress. Father gave her an incredulous look, astounded by her apparent naivety.

Rhea then appeared, Jillian by her side. "He definitely is. I would absolutely have him marry either of my daughters," she agreed, her pale face glowing with approval. Jillian nodded, staring dreamily into the distance as she pictured herself as Prince Adrian's wife. It seemed like everyone in this manor was brainwashed…It was quite nauseating.

"But didn't you hear what Father said?" I tried to reason, moving my arms about in wild gestures. "Prince Adrian isn't what we think. He's not the innocent royal we want him to be!" How could they be such ignorant fools to the truth? Well, Father's claims hadn't actually been proven to us, but I believed them, and they should as well.

Suddenly, three pairs of jade-green eyes stared at me. They were narrowed, offense and annoyance swimming in their depths. "Don't you have some floors to clean?" spat Vasilisa, her delicate hands on her hips. "Stop talking and get to work!"

Father eyed her, silently reprimanding. "Watch your tone, Vasilisa, or I'll have you clean the floors and the entire manor," he fiercely threatened. She ceased speaking then sauntered off to attend to her pointless matters. Jillian followed her like a stooge, their silver-gray and royal-purple gowns colliding on the smooth floors.

I huffed in relief before stretching my body and going back to work. I felt Rhea sneer at me viciously, yet when I turned around, she grabbed Father by the arm and led him to the iron staircase. "Oh Ibrahim, don't be so hard on Vasilisa. Now, come with me. You need to relax," she suggestively told him, a seductive look claiming her features.

Father suddenly took Rhea in his arms and raced themselves up the wrought stairs. I distantly heard the sound of a door being slammed after she squealed in delightful excitement. Sadness and anger befell me as I clutched the mappe in my hand.

* * *

 **IPOV**

Once we reached the master bedchamber, I gently set Rhea onto the spacious bed that Janine and I used to share. Every time I looked at it, all I could picture were memories of my late wife and I lying together under the silk sheets: Janine's beautiful, auburn curls framing her face as she slept; her hazel eyes twinkling with passion as we made love; her rare, affectionate smile whenever Rosemarie joined us; and, her rich and vibrant laugh as I told her humorous jokes.

It was as if her presence would never fade from this space. No matter how hard I had tried to overcome my tragic loss, my first love still consumed my mind.

"That daughter of yours can be quite a riot," Rhea said as her fingers started taking off my suit jacket. "She needs to learn her place." And just like that, my pleasant reminisces shattered as the present hijacked my brain. I really wished I could ignore Rhea's words about Rosemarie, but it was impossible. How could she call her a 'riot', when she barely even knew her? Did she have something against her? And if so, why?

My hands gripped hers, momentarily stopping her from undressing me. "Rosemarie is a wonderful daughter. She isn't a disrespectful delinquent. She's simply passionate," I calmly opposed, restraining myself from lashing out. Rhea gazed up at me with her jade-green eyes, eyes that had been so humiliated and betrayed when we first began courting. Recently, they seemed filled with disgust and hatred, more so than anything...Why did she still appear so unhappy?

My new wife barked out a harsh laugh. "I beg to differ. She gives me such an attitude whenever I tell her to do the chores. Such unacceptable behavior."

I sighed and ran my hands over my face, getting drained. "We have staff in the manor. None of us need to tend to common, household duties. Also, you're probably asking her to do an amount of chores that are too much for a single person," I reasoned, fighting the urge to vehemently argue yet again. Rhea narrowed her gaze for a few moments before rolling her eyes. My goodness, could she not find it in her to give Rosemarie a chance? She had seemed interested in being her new maternal figure while we were courting...Had she only feigned it to appease me?

"She's able to get all of them done whenever I ask her. They're not too much," Rhea fiercely disagreed. I didn't completely believe her, and she gave me no time to question her, for she freed her hands from my grip and resumed undressing me. "Enough talking about Rosemarie. Let's get back to relaxing, shall we?" she seductively suggested, locking our gazes into a lustful stare as my jacket came off, then my shirt and trousers and shoes. I paused once I was left in my britches.

"We don't have to do this right now," I objected, even though it was most likely too late to stop. It killed me being intimate with Rhea; it felt as if I was committing adultery against Janine. I wanted to be eternally loyal to her in every way, but I knew deep inside that I _had_ to move forward. I had to _forget_. Besides, if our roles were reversed, she would've probably married again and been intimate with her new husband too.

A sudden voice whispered from the shadows inside my head, _No she wouldn't have..._

Rhea's scoff killed my conscience's talking. "Come on, Ibrahim. We've only been intimate once, on the night of our wedding. We're married now. There's no reason to be resistant anymore," she encouraged, taking off her dress, petticoat, brassiere, and bloomers in one fluid motion. My eyes widened at her beauty. I may have regretted marrying again, but I would always view Rhea as an attractive woman, and she knew it. She stood up and gripped my britches, ready to yank them down.

"Wait!" It came out before I'd even thought about it.

Rhea threw up her hands. "What is it?!"

I took a deep breath and stared her in the eye. "Will you promise me that you will be nice to Rosemarie?"

"Ibrahim, don't be ridiculous."

"I don't want to hear it. Promise me that you will be nice to my daughter from now on," I demanded. I looked at Rhea long and hard until she finally exhaled and nodded her platinum-blond head.

"I will try my hardest," was all she said. I couldn't exactly tell if she was being sincere, so I just decided to cease talking and save myself from the headache that would ensue. Rhea took this as a cue to resume her ministrations, and she took off my britches and lay down on the expansive bed, waiting for me to join her.

I closed my eyes and pictured her as Janine. Then, I joined her.

* * *

 **RPOV**

When I finished, I collapsed onto my soft, comfortable bed and stared at the lavender ceiling. My body ached again, like yesterday, but it was slightly less bad now that I was used to it. I had no idea what time of day it was, but I didn't really care. I was tired and very close to drifting into a dreamless slumber.

Out of nowhere, my friends barged into my bedchamber. Mia settled on the side of my bed while Christian leaned against the ebony bedframe. Edison and Mason went to stand near the two. All of their eyes were alert.

"Did you hear, Rosemarie?" asked Mia, her blond curls lightly swinging around her face as she smiled widely. "Prince Adrian is in England!"

Christian rolled his ice-blue eyes and sarcastically replied, "How exciting. I'm bumbling with joy." Mia scoffed at him, slapping his fairly muscular arm. He rolled his eyes again before directing his attention to me.

Edison came forward, his hazel-eyes somewhat dark. "I kind of agree with Christian, Rosemarie. Prince Adrian isn't the princely of princes, if you know what I mean," he warned almost protectively, his words mirroring what Father had said.

I sat up, my legs folding underneath my body. "Wait just a moment. I have to ask you all something. How did you even get here?" I wondered in complete flabbergast.

"We simply got rides and asked for entrance. Then, we asked where you were, and once we knew, we came here," answered Mason nonchalantly.

His words did nothing to dwindle my confusion. My mind was still spinning. "So you just had to come talk to me about Prince Adrian's arrival after the country received the notice?" They all nodded in confirmation, however Christian still seemed pretty indifferent.

Mia scooted closer, her magenta gown brushing my dress. "I can't wait for the party! I'm going to have my dress be spectacular and I'm going to make sure I dance with him and just—oh! It'll be so amazing. I can already picture it," she gushed, resembling Vasilisa and Jillian's behavior a few hours ago.

Edison frowned, clearly not happy. "Mia, Rosemarie, listen to me, please. Prince Adrian—"

He was interrupted by Vasilisa, who came in unannounced, her silver-gray dress trailing behind her like a train. Everyone sent her cold glares as she went to my dresser and rummaged through my jewelry box. I called as kindly as I could, "What are you doing?"

She rudely replied without even looking, "I'm getting some accessories for tomorrow. Now go back to your stupid friends and leave me be." Red-hot anger filled the atmosphere—it was so palpable—but no one said anything, except for Christian, who stormed over to her and yanked her around.

Vasilisa gasped.

His eyes were as sharp as ice. "Will you show some respect and politeness for once, you mean bitch? Why do you've to be so damn cruel?" he growled at her.

My stepsister curled her glossed lips into a snarl. She pointed her pale finger at him. "I'm so damn cruel? You are the one whose parents committed treason against our country. That's the cruelest crime against the law. And it served them right. They deserved it, you hellish bastard!"

Out of nowhere, Christian's hand swung out and slapped her right across the cheek. Hard. Everyone's eyes bugged out of there head in disbelief, and I got off my bed quickly to get between him and Vasilisa, who was cradling her reddening cheek.

"Enough of this!" I ordered.

Vasilisa spat at Christian, "How dare you hit me." Her jade-green eyes were on fire.

His were cold, unregretful, and deeply blue. "I've every right to hit a girl not acting like a lady. And you were acting downright rotten." Christian stepped closer, nearly squishing me into my stepsister. His voice was low and menacing. "If you ever talk about my parents again, there will be hell to pay."

I touched his jacketed shoulder lightly, not wanting to put him on edge even more. I made sure my voice was soft. "It's getting late, Christian. You should probably go home." He met my gaze and stared at me in silence for several moments before nodding. He then left without uttering a word, slamming my door behind him.

Vasilisa huffed and marched out as well, mumbling curses under her breath.

After a while, the stunned silence dissipated and everyone began moving, as if they had been frozen for a thousand years and were now coming back to life. Mia got off my bed, her pretty blue eyes disturbed. "I'm going to go too. See you tomorrow, Rosemarie." She gave me a hug before quickly walking out.

Edison came up to me. He put on a smile and tried to sound humorous. "My goodness, who knew Vasilisa could be such a beast." I forced out a small laugh, but I didn't mean it. Edison then cleared his throat and told me goodbye before leaving.

Mason was the last to go. His baby-blue eyes had lost their disbelief, and now, they seemed sad, sympathetic, and angry. He rested his lightly tanned hands on my upper arms and pulled me to his chest. I welcomed it and closed my eyes. "It'll get better," he whispered. "I promise."

I looked up at him. "Thanks, I appreciate it," I whispered back. After more silence, I finally said, "You should go, Mason. Goodnight."

Mason nodded and went to the door, but he didn't exit. He just held the gold knob in his hand and stared at me. I could practically feel his blue eyes penetrating my soul. "Goodnight," he softly replied.

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Christian avoided us the next day. He didn't speak to us in class; he didn't look our way; and, he abandoned us at lunch. I deeply wanted to talk to him about what had occurred last night, but he kept himself distant, acting like a brooding, black raven in a dark forest.

He didn't want company.

After his squabble with Vasilisa, I had went to her bedchamber and completely chastised her. I had told her that what she'd said was out of line and absolutely unforgivable. I remembered the stubborn look in her jade-green eyes when I'd basically yelled at her. She seemed like she hadn't cared since her arms had been crossed over her chest and she hadn't looked at me.

However, I was sure there had been a regretful, guilty look hidden in her gaze.

Had she really felt terrible for treating Christian that way? I doubted it. But was she a human being who was able to feel emotions and make mistakes? Definitely. Maybe Vasilisa had wished she could take her words back. Maybe after I had left her bedchamber, she stuffed her face in her feathery pillow and cried.

I shook those thoughts away as I sat down on an empty bench inside of the main building. Like Christian, I wanted to be alone. The weather was beautiful outside, sunlight spilling through the stained-glass windows. The colorful mosaics glittered alongside them. The brightness did nothing to lighten my mood, though.

I took my turkey and cheese sandwich out of my bag and bit out a piece.

Suddenly, Jillian appeared in the hallway and flicked her head back and forth, looking for someone. Once she peered in my direction, she hurried over to me, plopping down on the wooden bench. Her light brown hair hung around her flushed face in tangles.

I arched a brow. "What do you want?" It came out a bit harsh, but I didn't care.

Jillian released a heavy breath. She seemed guilty and self-hateful for some reason. "Vasilisa said she's sorry about everything that happened last night. She understands that she had no right to say those words to Christian."

My hand set my sandwich on my lap. I narrowed my eyes at her. "If Vasilisa is truly sorry and wants forgiveness, she needs to address that to Christian, not have you play messenger." Jillian flinched at my terse tone, and I immediately felt bad for being hard on her.

She wasn't the one who hurt my friend, after all.

Jillian nodded. When she spoke, her voice was very soft. Her fingers fiddled. "I know, but I can't help feeling responsible for what Vasilisa did. I should've prevented her from engaging in that behavior, yet I didn't."

I softened, scooting closer to her and placing my hand over hers. Jillian met my gaze, her jade-green eyes appearing so different from their usual look. "You didn't know what Vasilisa was doing, and that's not your fault. She needs to take full accountability for her actions, not dump them on you."

My stepsister nodded, a shy smile spreading across her pale face. "Thank you, Rosemarie. It was really wonderful hearing that." She then rose, her turquoise gown swaying around her. "I'll tell Vasilisa what you said. She can decide what to do from there," Jillian declared, gaining some internal strength.

I told her that I'd see her later, and she similarly replied before walking away.

My body was overcome with disbelief. I would've never expected to have a civil conversation with my stepsisters or at least one of them. Maybe they were finally starting to come around and realize that being cruel to others was not good.

I was going to resume eating my sandwich when a crowd of British guards appeared, marching down the hallway in disciplined unison and crisp uniforms. Feminine squeals sounded and I soon witnessed multiple girls gathering around the guards, trying to talk to whoever was being protected. When they came closer, I dropped my food on the marble floor.

It was Prince Adrian.

He sent the other schoolgirls dazzling smiles, his pearly-white teeth brilliantly sparkling. I wanted to roll my eyes at him. It seemed so typical of him. Quite unexpectedly, he took notice of me sitting by myself and ordered his guards to stop. My body froze as he walked up to me and bowed, taking my gloved hand in his to kiss it.

The girls frowned at not receiving Prince Adrian's attention and started leaving, much to the relief of his guards.

"It is such a pleasure to meet you, miss," he greeted gentlemanly, a British-French accent lacing his words. His emerald-green eyes twinkled like gems as he gazed into my dark, chestnut orbs. "I am Prince Adrian of England, and you are?"

It was a while before I could find my voice. I offered a sincere smile. "Rosemarie Mazur, your excellency. I am the daughter of Lord Ibrahim Mazur." Prince Adrian gave me a glorious grin and sat down beside me, leaning close and intensely holding my gaze.

I could hardly breathe.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Yet, why on earth is she sitting by herself?" he wondered a little too genuinely. Prince Adrian was definitely interested in me, and I didn't really like him showering me with so much attention before his party. It was a little uncomfortable. He needed to act neutral before choosing his bride.

A blush began surfacing on my cheeks, but I forced it away. "Oh, why thank you. And I'm sitting alone because I…had a rough night and day. I'm spending some time alone." Prince Adrian rose his semi-dark eyebrows, taking my response as rejection. "I'm not telling you to leave, my prince. I was only answering your question."

He fell relieved at that, smoothing over his stylishly messy, medium brown hair.

Before he could reply, I crossed my legs under my sapphire-blue dress and questioned, "Why do you've both a British and French accent? You're from the royal family of England."

Prince Adrian stared at me in confusion for a second before realization washed over his handsome features. "That is very true, Miss Mazur. However, my Aunt Tatiana, the past queen of England, retired to France after my father wedded my mother. I stay with her sometime each year," he explained.

I nodded. After sitting with him for a few, awkward moments, I cleared my throat. "Well, lunch is about to end. I must be on my way to class." I stood up and gathered my things, picking my forgotten sandwich off the floor, feeling a little sad for not be able to finish it. I then politely curtsied and started leaving; however, Prince Adrian gripped my arm.

"Wait." He rose from the bench. I didn't notice how tall and lean he was—I assumed he was a little over six feet, and his body was nicely toned under his royal suit. I wanted to pinch myself for having the absurd urge to touch him. "I apologize for grabbing you like that, yet I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to come to the palace for dinner. The night before my party," Prince Adrian hopefully offered.

My eyes widened in surprise. "Are you inviting the other maidens?"

He put on his signature, dazzling smile and shook his head. "No, Miss Rosemarie. Just you." I was astounded. I didn't know whether to accept or decline. Accepting his invitation would be unfair to the other girls who were going to attend his party, since he already favored me. However, I supposed it wouldn't hurt to have dinner with him. Maybe it wouldn't change anything.

Suddenly, Father's voice invaded my mind. _I just want you to be careful. Don't involve yourself with someone like him_.

Did I really have to worry about Prince Adrian's unruly behavior? Was there anything to be aware of? He did seem arrogant and deeply captivated by all attractive women; however, he didn't smell like smoke or alcohol. Maybe that was in the past...

Had Father been telling me lies because he simply didn't like him?

I gave my answer after moments of contemplation. "I'd love to."

* * *

 **I know Dimitri hasn't appeared yet, but I'm spacing everything out. Just stay tuned!**

 **Adrian's party will happen before Dimitri's family's ball.**

 **Will Lissa ever apologize to Christian?**

 **Should Rose have listened to her father's warning, and was he even telling the whole truth?**

 **Don't forget to review, readers!**

 **Until next time...**


	6. Chapter 6: Wants and Needs

**Thanks for the favs and follows! I hope you like this chapter. Enjoy reading!**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

The sky was beautifully dark as I stepped out of the delicate carriage that had picked me up from Fairston Academy. Its blue-black hue seemed like the depths of the ocean at nightfall—frightening yet captivating. I struggled bringing my loaded, leather tote into the manor when a royal messenger suddenly appeared.

I nearly jumped out of my dress as he walked up to me. The fellow appeared slight and awkward in his commoner clothes, his skin very pale and his eyes and nose too big for his face. He looked very goofy and young, however I put on a smile and ridded my judgments.

"May I help you, sir?" I wondered kindly.

The royal messenger bowed, displaying a black satin hat. "Good evening, Miss Mazur," he greeted respectfully, his voice fairly high. He moved his small hands from behind his back and gave me something that resembled a package. "I've been sent by Prince Adrian to deliver this gift to you," he explained.

My eyebrows rose in curious interest. The package felt fine and fragile in my grip, delicate almost. I wondered what Prince Adrian could've possibly given me. Jewelry, a dress, flowers, perfume, lingerie? Anything even remotely romantic?

After staring at my mail for several, silent moments, I realized that the royal messenger was still standing before me. When I brought my gaze to him, an awkward look crossed his face. "Thank you so much," I said, smiling. The fellow nodded quickly then sped away on the cobblestone road, disappearing into the darkening day.

I went inside the manor and carried my things up the wrought, iron staircase. When I reached the top, Rhea was waiting in a lavender gown, her gnarling hands on her slender hips. She eyed my package suspiciously as I walked by, and soon after, I heard her following me into my bedchamber.

I turned around after setting down my tote and package. "Is something the matter?" I asked.

My stepmother crossed her arms. Her jade-green eyes were hard. "Where'd you get that, and who gave it to you?" she demanded, sounding very unhappy. I wanted to roll my eyes at her tone. Why'd she have to make what only pertained to me her business? It was increasingly annoying and very unnecessary.

In a mature tone, I simply replied, "Prince Adrian."

Rhea's bright eyes bugged out of her head. Then, quite angrily, she charged over to my bed and snatched the package, ripping the pretty paper to discover what lay inside. I gasped and rushed over to her, trying to take it back. Yet, my stepmother shoved me out of the way and ferociously continued.

"Stop it!" I shouted, tears brimming in my eyes. "Take your hands _off_ my gift." Rhea ignored me, and after a few moments, she had the package open and yanked out whatever was inside. Her eyes were flaming as she glared at the objects in her pale hands.

"Prince Adrian gave you red roses and a note?" she sneered, her face twisting into a feral grin as she glared at my gift. Rhea threw them on the hardwood floor then demanded my attention as I hurriedly picked them up and clutched them to my chest. "What made him send you that and why? He just came back to England. He hasn't met any maiden yet."

I swallowed deeply, a burn permeating my throat. "He came to school today and talked to me during lunch. He…invited me over for dinner the night before his party and apparently, he decided to send me a gift to be sweet," I answered, averting my gaze.

Rhea suddenly kicked my mahogany door. She cursed loudly and ran her hands through her platinum-blond hair, tresses that Vasilisa inherited. "You're not going to that dinner and you're going to return that gift Prince Adrian sent you," she ordered, pointing a thin finger at the roses and note.

I shook my head, not wanting to obey this time. "No. You can't make me. I accepted his invitation and I'm keeping this gift," I countered strongly. By this point, I was looking at my stepmother. Her lavender gown blended into the walls of my bedchamber while my sapphire-blue dress starkly contrasted.

Her jade-green eyes darkened at my challenge, and Rhea spat, "Oh really? Well, I'll see what your father thinks about all of this." She marched out and slammed the door behind her—I could hear her heels clicking against the floors. I paced like a caged animal until Rhea reappeared with Father trailing behind her.

His chestnut-brown eyes met mine. "Rosemarie, what's going on?" he began.

I sighed. This was all suddenly so exhausting. I then explained, "She's upset that Prince Adrian invited me to have dinner with his family the night before his party. And, she doesn't like that he sent me a present." Father narrowed his dark gaze as he noticed the roses and note clutched to my chest.

He walked over to me, staring from above as he towered over my head. Father wasn't exceedingly tall, yet he was definitely over six feet, so he seemed intimidating, especially with his thick goatee and penetrating eyes. In a stern voice, he chastised, "Rosemarie, what did I tell you about Prince Adrian? He has a scandalous background, and you've no business getting involved with him."

I couldn't help but pout. "But Father—"

"No, I won't hear it. Like Rhea said, you're not going to that dinner and you're returning those gifts, whether you like it or not," he finalized, giving no room for argument. Rhea smirked triumphantly from behind him, sending me a wicked, green glare. Father gestured at my unwrapped presents. "Put that package together, then send it back. Despite my warning, I'll allow you to go to Prince Adrian's party. However, the dinner and gifts are too much."

I nodded in sad reluctance, collapsing onto my bed as Father and Rhea gave me one last look before exiting my bedchamber. It felt so great to finally have some silence. My mind was rampaging from everything that had just happened—I was so sick and tired of hearing how Prince Adrian was so bad.

What did Father know, anyway?

Wanting to kill those thoughts, I unfolded my arms and released the roses while keeping the note in my grasp. Opening the piece of paper, I held my breath as I read the inky words written by Prince Adrian.

 **Dear Little Rose,**

 **From only one look, I was captivated. Your beauty amazes me each time I see your precious eyes, flawless skin, and supple lips. There is no doubt that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in all of my twenty one years. As a gift, I give you six red roses to represent love at first sight.**

 **I know this may seem a bit much, but I would really love to get to know you more. You're not like other girls. You'll never be like other girls.**

 **I hope you enjoy this present, and I cannot wait for you to have dinner with me and my family. When the party comes, I'll definitely save a special dance for none other than you.**

 **With all my heart,**

 **Prince Adrian Ivashkov**

I read the note over and over again. My eyes gave time to each magnificent, black word from beginning to end. I smelled the glorious roses. My heart swelled in my chest. My stomach seemed to flutter with butterflies. He really cared about me and wanted to be with me. He seriously felt that I, Rosemarie Mazur, was the girl of his dreams.

All I could see were Prince Adrian's emerald-green eyes. His defined cheekbones and nose. His styled, brown hair. His lean, lightly tanned body. His charm, his slight arrogance, everything. What if I actually became Princess Rosemarie Ivashkov of England? I'd have a whole, new life of wonders and privileges. I'd have authority over my stepfamily and Father. I'd bear male heirs to the throne.

It all sounded so magnificent…

"Rosemarie," said a feminine voice. I stopped staring at the note and was surprised to see Vasilisa in my doorway, her pale blond hair falling around her face like a dead curtain. She seemed exhausted and tortured, as if she had been sitting in a dark chamber losing her mind. Slight, dark circles hung under her eyes. Her skin was paler than usual.

Becoming worried, I rushed over to her and softly asked, "Are you all right?" Vasilisa released a heavy sigh and came in, only to close the door and slide down to the floor. Her black dress pooled around her. I'd never seen her wear black—she was probably in a dark mood.

My stepsister didn't speak for several moments. Silence hung in the atmosphere, tense and thick. I twiddled my thumbs until Vasilisa finally said in a low voice, "Do you think…do you think Christian will forgive me for the things I said?"

I was drawn to a blank. Had she seriously been torturing herself about what she had done all this time? Had she been driving herself insane with guilt and self-hate and remorse for nearly two days?

I tried to come up with an excellent response, yet I could only shrug. "I don't know. I kind of doubt it, though. I don't think Christian's going to give you a chance. I think he's extremely upset and doesn't want anything to do with you," I replied, nearly cringing at how harsh those words sounded.

Vasilisa flinched in actual pain, barely able to handle my answer. I studied her for a long time until she finally closed her eyes and said even lower, "Thank you. That was all I needed to hear." My stepsister stood up and left my bedchamber without another word.

The last thing I saw was her black dress.

* * *

It was immensely dark while I rode in the pitch-black night. Thousands of stars twinkled brightly in the sky as the silver moon illuminated the cobblestoned and dirt roads. Silhouettes of sturdy trees overlapped in the forests while shadows depicted creatures birthed by imagination.

My horse huffed giant breaths as his hooves pounded against the earth. Semi-dark mane flew in the slapping air and slightly blinded my vision. I wasn't headed anywhere in particular—I just wanted to get away from home and clear my mind. So many thoughts swirled in a mental tornado.

Rhea. Father. Prince Adrian. Vasilisa.

I needed to document it all and free it from my head. I brought my journal, the red velvet material somewhat visible underneath my satin cloak. The gold key was hidden in my boots.

I usually didn't ride my horse this late, since night was a dangerous time for traveling by foot or animal. However, it was urgent and I'd had to basically lie to Father and Rhea to leave the manor, especially when school was tomorrow.

It took a while before I came to a location I was satisfied with. It was deep within the forestry, and all I could witness were shades of black and green. I tied my horse to a thick, looming tree, using a spare blanket to keep him warm. He neighed in fright as I moved away, yet I calmed him with soothing noises.

I found a place to sit against a different tree. I leaned into the trunk and put my legs closer to my chest. Taking out the journal and placing it in my bent lap, I turned to a blank page and pressed my trusty quill to its whiteness.

 **September 30** **th** **, 1685**

 **Father and Rhea are prohibiting me from having dinner at the royal palace with Prince Adrian and his family. How could they be so cruel and refuse that I should have a good time enjoying myself with a young man who cares about me?**

 **I cannot believe Father thinks Prince Adrian is some superficial bastard who only cares about riches, women, drugs, and alcohol. While he does take notice of the prettier girls, I think he has shown that he has the ability to be deep and substantial behind his intentions.**

 **Also, Rhea threw a fit because she does not like that the prince has paid more attention to me than to Vasilisa and Jillian. Her behavior was out of line this evening, but I suppose I can overlook that.**

 **Prince Adrian's gifts were absolutely wonderful. I usually did not like receiving rose-related things, yet when it was with a special purpose and given by a special person, I loved it. The roses smelled and looked lovely. The note was beautiful…I cannot wait to see him soon.**

 **Vasilisa coming to me to talk about Christian forgiving her was strange. Does she really care about what he thinks of her? Does she wholeheartedly want to make amends? I guess I will never know, but hopefully, there can be some settlement.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

I released a heavy breath after furiously writing. My body felt relieved, and a weight seemed as if it had been lifted off my shoulders. There was nothing more I wanted to do now but go home and sleep in my comfortable, warm bed.

Groaning, I got up and walked over to my horse, who whinnied gratefully at the sight of me. I untied the rope then kissed his large muzzle before mounting, securing my journal, key, and quill in their respective places. Clicking my tongue and tugging on the reins, I directed my horse out of the forest and onto the road.

If it was even possible, the sky seemed even darker than before. I had to strain my eyes to make out silhouettes and have my horse trot instead of gallop. It made me wish that I had never left home in the first place, yet I would've never been able to clear my head.

It was a long while until I finally reached the manor. I took my horse to the stables on our property as quietly as I could before rushing to the back entrance and slipping inside.

The manor was much lighter than outside. Lamps burned candle wax on the vintage walls, illuminating hallways with orange-yellow fire as the crystal chandeliers shimmered in dimness. I tiptoed in my leather boots, trying to keep quiet, clutching my cloak so it wouldn't whoosh in the air. My bedchamber door came into view and I hurried to get to it.

Successfully, I reached my room and rushed inside, shutting the door softly behind me. I couldn't believe I made it back unnoticed, but considering how late it was, everyone should be in bed and asleep.

I removed my cloak, sapphire-blue dress, petticoat, and black brassiere. I went to my drawer and took out a long-sleeved, white nightgown to slip on. I combed my loose hair then crawled into bed.

Sleep welcomed me.

* * *

 **APOV**

The awkward, royal messenger came bumbling into my private study as I was pouring myself a glass of Russian vodka. It was incredibly strong liquor, but years of consumption allowed me to be more tolerant. I leaned back into a fine, leather chair and started sipping. The familiar burn rushed down my throat.

"Prince Adrian, I delivered the presents to Miss Rosemarie Mazur," he shyly informed. The guy looked small in his uniform, and I was sure Rosemarie had thought the same thing when he had appeared at Mazur Manor with the package.

Waving him away, I simply replied, "Thanks. You can go now." The messenger obeyed without question and fled my private study, as if I was about to kill him. He was really annoying with his jittery behavior, yet I knew he was a nice and decent guy.

Once I was alone, I thought about the dark-haired beauty I had met at Fairston Academy, that prestigious school for children of prominent families. It was specifically built for that reason—keeping poorer people out. The school reminded me of how I was never really one for education.

Being the son of a king was a pain in the arse, sometimes. I had been forced to be taught by a private, paid instructor who gave me exclusive lessons that were boring and ridiculous. _Tell me, young prince, what is the political structure of each European empire?_

Those sorts of questions had had me skipping lessons more than once.

I had decided to attend to more princely matters, like horseback riding, archery, and swordsmanship. Not to mention, being prepared for finding a bride so I could claim the throne and rule my rightful kingdom with heirs to continue my legacy.

It was enjoyable meeting different women and having great times; however, when I had come upon Rosemarie earlier, she was like no other. First of all, she hadn't even chased me like her desperate, clingy schoolmates. She had held her ground while still being available, which I admired. Also, her features were exotic and absolutely gorgeous—I was tired of seeing the standard pale, skinny, and heavily makeup-ed girls.

I loved her soft curves. I loved her dark, long hair. I loved her golden skin. I loved her captivating eyes. I loved her kind yet tough personality. I wanted to know her more, so I'd had to make the feeling mutual by sending her those roses and that note.

I couldn't wait for her to have dinner at the palace. I couldn't wait to dance with her at my party. Hopefully, Rosemarie could even become my princess, but it might not happen because Cesarevich Dimitri of Russia had his family's annual ball after my party. Nearly every maiden in the world went to that event, and he was in more demand than I was, anyway.

His father was out of the picture. His mother couldn't keep the throne any longer. It was as simple as that.

Rosemarie was definitely going to go to the ball—all girls did. I knew I had to get her committed to me soon or she was going to fall for Belikov, and I was certain she would. Cesarevich Dimitri was older, taller, handsomer, wealthier, and had a strong Russian accent that apparently made women want to melt.

I poured some more vodka into my glass then swallowed it all at once, a vicious burn ripping through my throat.

Rosemarie Mazur needed to be mine.

And I wasn't going to stop until I had her.

* * *

 **Will Rose begin falling for Adrian?**

 **Does Adrian genuinely want to be with Rose?**

 **What's going on with Lissa, and will she ever make amends with Christian? Would he really forgive her?**

 **Don't forget to review, readers!**

 **Until next time...**


	7. Chapter 7: The Rarity of Special

**Just a heads up: I'm starting school next Monday, so updates might be later than usual from then on. Though, I'll update at the end of this weekend. With that said, enjoy reading:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV—Two Weeks Later**

"What do you have there?" asked Mia, her light blue eyes curious as she sat beside me on a majestic fountain, clear water pouring behind us. Her scarlet-red gown sharply contrasted the paleness of her skin and lightness of her blond curls. She smiled sweetly while waiting for my response.

I tried to combat the blush rushing to my cheeks yet failed. Placing a dark strand behind my ear, I answered, "It's a gift from Prince Adrian." I held up the delicately wrapped box, the metallic ribbons falling away. Mia widened her eyes and squealed excitedly, bouncing like a little girl.

She grabbed my arm, staring at me intensely. "He gave you a present?"

"Multiple, as a matter of fact," I automatically corrected.

"Oh my goodness, Rosemarie. Do you know what this means? Prince Adrian likes you, and he wants to be with you!" Mia exclaimed with such emotion, you'd think she was talking about herself. Suddenly, my friend shot up and twirled like a ballerina. "Prince Adrian loves Rosemarie Mazur! Prince Adrian loves Rosemarie Mazur!" she screamed aloud.

It drew the attention of many students, who stopped walking to peer at us as if she was insane. Embarrassment flooded my body, so I yanked on Mia's floral sleeve, causing her to plop down on the edge of fountain. "Will you shut your mouth, already? I don't want you telling the whole goddamn school that Prince Adrian is in love with me," I hissed at her in a whisper.

Mia giggled hysterically, pulling away from me. She fixed her fanciful hair and pretty dress. "I'm sorry, but I just had to. Now, what did he give you? Show me, show me!" she demanded, reaching over to grab my present. I rolled my eyes and slowly took the gift out of the box, careful not to ruin it.

We both gasped once it was revealed.

Prince Adrian had given me an entire outfit. There was a satin, blood-red, flowing gown with elbow-length sleeves, and black lace bordered the sweetheart neckline. A black sash and gloves accompanied the dress, along with closed-toed heels, black sapphire earrings and a necklace. The ensemble was dark yet beautiful, and I couldn't believe he wanted me to have all this.

Mia's glossed lips separated in agape. "My…that's lovely…" she mesmerizingly muttered.

I rummaged around the open box until I found a small card that was probably a note. Holding my breath, I unfolded it and thoroughly read the words staring back at me.

 **Dear Rose,**

 **I want you to look absolutely stunning for my party, so I sent you this beautiful outfit. I hope you love it just as much as I do.**

 **I'm coming by Mazur Manor after you get home from Fairston Academy, and I'm going to take you out on an evening picnic by the ocean. Wear something light and pretty.**

 **Love,**

 **Prince Adrian Ivashkov**

This was all happening so quickly. He had invited me to have dinner with his family; he had sent gifts of roses, perfume, accessories, clothes, and breathtaking notes over the past fourteen days; he only wanted to dance with me at his party; and now, he wanted us to court. I couldn't believe such blessings were coming my way after Mother's death.

I had thought that I was going to drown in sorrow and grief forever. Drown in unhappiness forever…

"I told you he loved you," chided Mia, victory clouding her light blue eyes.

Suddenly, a male voice surfaced, "Who loves who?"

We both looked up and found Edison standing before us. The radiant sunlight caught his sandy-blond hair, making him seem like an angelic warrior. His hazel eyes glanced between us in curiosity before he crossed his arms over his chest. I hastily folded the dress and crumpled the note, throwing everything inside the gift box. Mia and I then bombarded Edison with distracting smiles.

He wasn't fooled. "You haven't answered my question?" he pressed fiercely. We stayed silent for several moments, the sound of students conversing floating around our ears while the fountain water endlessly poured. After quite some time, I heaved out a breath and gestured for Edison to sit next to me.

Facing him, I locked my eyes with his and pleaded, "Promise me that you won't get upset?" He didn't respond for a few seconds, then he finally nodded and waited for me to continue. I clenched my hands in my lap. I could almost feel Mia's breath tumbling down my back. "Prince Adrian sent me a present this morning, and Mia noticed it when I sat here. She came over to me and kept teasing that he loves me and wants to be with me," I explained.

Edison's strong jaw clenched as his hazel eyes darkened. He gritted his teeth, trying to remain under control. "To be honest, Rosemarie, I don't think our _wonderful_ prince loves you. I think he's just treating you as another conquest. He's giving you all these presents to make it seem as if he loves you," he confessed.

I blinked back tears, shaking my head in doubt. "That's not true. You're acting just like my father—you don't like Prince Adrian, so you're acting as if he's some bad man. And he's not. He's sweet and gentlemanly and really cares about me," I countered, not wanting to hear this hurtful nonsense.

Mia stayed silent and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"The only thing he cares about is becoming king and making royal babies," Edison spat back, growing louder with each word, trying to force me to listen. Finished with hearing such ridiculousness, I stood up and gathered my things, leaving him and Mia without uttering a word. I could feel his hazel eyes glaring holes into my back while her light blue ones stared sympathetically after me.

I was so tired of everyone talking poorly of Prince Adrian. He wasn't what they thought. He wasn't consumed with wealth and power and having a girl to satisfy his needs. He wanted to know me better, and he wanted me to hopefully be his princess—a true princess. Not one who was only wedded for making appearances and pleasuring her husband at his leisure.

I was so enraptured with my thoughts that I hadn't realized I ran into Vasilisa. She didn't look like her normal self—she wore black again and had a tormented glimmer in her jade-green eyes. Her usually perfect, platinum-blond hair was in tangles.

She scratched her head, wondering, "Have you seen Christian?" Her eyes wildly searched all around us, going from crowds of people to the entire courtyard to the whole Gothic-styled school. My brows furrowed in absolute confusion then rose in suspicion. Was she finally about to apologize? I hoped so, for she had been strange the past two weeks.

"No, I haven't. The only people I was with were Edison and Mia," I replied with slight apology. Christian had decided to speak to us again, yet that was only on the way to classes. He was still isolating himself from everyone. Even with Prince Adrian dominating my thoughts, I still wondered if he was okay. Every time I saw him, Christian seemed guarded and a bit off. I just wanted my friend and stepsister back.

Vasilisa huffed impatiently, her body quaking. "All right, well thanks anyway. I'll continue looking for him until lunch is over," she said before speeding to the church, her hair and dress flying behind her like a cape. I watched her until she opened the heavy, black doors then disappeared inside.

Wait...that was strange... How did Vasilisa know that the church was one of Christian's favorite hiding places? From what he had said a while ago, he always hid in the attic to truly be away from others. No one had ever paid attention to him sneaking into the church attic, so I was stunned that Vasilisa even took notice.

Deciding to just let the matter go, I headed into the main building. The cool air and darkness felt welcoming as I walked to a bench and sat down. The mosaics glittered in all sorts of colors from the sunlight, and the chandeliers loomed from the high ceiling. I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my loose hair.

"Tired, aren't you?" Mason commented as he came over to me, his baby-blue eyes sparkling. I put on a slight smile as he sat down beside me and wrapped a jacketed arm around my shoulders. He rubbed my arm soothingly before noticing my gift. Mason narrowed his eyes and questioned, "What's that?"

I sighed and replied, "It's a present from Prince Adrian. He gave me an outfit to wear at his party and wrote a note." If I wasn't mistaken, jealously flashed in Mason's eyes, and I felt his lean body stiffen. Immediately, I grew annoyed. There was no chance in hell I was going to hear more rubbish about Prince Adrian being a no-good bastard.

"Why's he giving you presents?" he continued questioning, staring me down with his gaze. "I don't understand. Is he…fond of you or something?" Mason's scarlet-red hair suddenly appeared dark in the hallway light, and I sensed that he wasn't particularly happy. I threw his arm off me in angry irritation and stood up, getting ready to leave.

I spat, "Enough! I'm done hearing this stupid bullshit." When I began walking away, Mason's hand flew out and gripped my arm, pulling me back to him. I tried to fight him off, but I realized that the attempt was futile and surrendered, allowing him to place me back onto the bench.

He stared at me, wide-eyed. "Language, Rosemarie! One minute, I'm merely asking some questions, and the next, you're furious and cursing," Mason said exasperatedly. When I looked into his baby-blue eyes, I saw that there was no jealousy and he had indeed been simply curious. Guilt washed over me, and I ran a hand over my face.

"I'm sorry, Mase. I've been hearing nonstop dislike for Prince Adrian and assumed you were doing the same, so I lashed out. Can you please forgive me?" I responded in a soft voice, feeling horrible for the way I'd just treated him.

He immediately smiled and pulled me into him for a hug. "Of course, Rosemarie. I'll always forgive you." It felt nice having a friend, aside from Mia, that was on my side and not criticizing me for allowing Prince Adrian to court me. It felt great hearing such positive words.

We stayed that way until the church bell chimed to signify the end of lunch. Mason and I went our separate paths, and I felt better as I carried my precious gifts and school supplies to Biology, which was up the winding staircase.

Now that I was in a good mood, I couldn't wait for my date with Prince Adrian. I couldn't wait to rid those treacherous thoughts and be alone with him for once.

Tonight was truly going to be amazing.

* * *

The white, volatile waves crashed against the jagged, dark rocks as the sun was setting. The horizon glimmered with streaks of orange, pink, and yellow, casting romantic glows on the rough, wet sand. I stood in an ivory gown that was light in weight and touched the ground. My dark hair was loose and fell down my back in soft waves. I was patiently waiting for Prince Adrian when suddenly, a pair of lean arms wrapped around my waist.

I squealed.

Prince Adrian twirled me around a few times before gently setting me down on the sand. I stayed still to regain my balance while he smiled down at me, his emerald-green eyes twinkling. He grabbed my hands and caressed them. "You look absolutely stunning," Prince Adrian complimented in his British-French accent.

I blushed, the ocean breeze whipping through my hair. "Thank you," was all I could say. Holding my gaze, he slowly leaned down and placed the softest kiss on my cheek. My heart thumped. He then wrapped his arms around me and led me over to a blanket that sat away from the water. A basket, glasses, plates, and decorations rested in organization, waiting to be used.

My breath caught in my throat as Prince Adrian got me situated then sat across from me. He watched my astounded expression in immense pleasure. "You like it?" he asked, taking out meat dishes, bread rolls, desserts, and a bottle of red wine. All I could do was nod.

I watched as he fixed our plates. He was very graceful with his movements, making sure we both had equal portions before serving mine. "Oh my, this looks delicious," I breathed, inhaling the wonderful aromas of the food. Prince Adrian laughed in amusement then took a bite of custard pie. I copied him and moaned in delight.

"Enjoying your meal?" he checked, his French accent thickening, nearly overshadowing the British accent he acquired at the same time. I nodded in silence, feeling unsure of how else to respond.

I wasn't experienced in intimate situations—I had never really been courted and I was still a virgin at nearly eighteen years of age, which was fairly rare. Some part of me wanted to hurry and accomplish it already, but I deeply hoped that Prince Adrian wouldn't push me into doing anything very passionate.

When it came to things like this, I wanted to give my body to someone I felt such an undeniable, deep connection to. Prince Adrian was an amazing man; however, I didn't feel that special spark around him. Yes, his notes were breathtaking. Yes, his gifts were lovely. Yet, there was nothing about him that had me in love.

I had no romantic interest.

"Rosemarie, care for some wine?" he asked, dragging me out of my thoughts. I blinked several times before nodding. He grinned that dazzling smile, grabbing the wine bottle and pouring the bitter, red liquid into two, identical glasses. He handed me one and raised his. "To a wonderful night and hopefully, a beautiful future," Prince Adrian toasted.

"To a wonderful night and beautiful future," I reiterated. We drank the wine in unison then conversed after finishing it. We were facing the glorious ocean, our bodies close as we watched the quickening sunset. The air smelled perfectly salty while a moderate breeze blew.

I felt Prince Adrian wrap his arm around me once the temperature grew a little cold, and I leaned into his chest for warmth. "How was your day?" he wondered, caressing my hair with his nimble fingers.

I tried my best to ignore his actions, focusing on our conversation. "It was nice. I received your gift this morning when I arrived at the academy, but I opened it at lunch. It was very lovely and I can't wait to wear it to the party," I said gratefully, a smile pulling at my lips.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied in his smooth voice, pulling me closer to his body, our forms now pressing against each other. Prince Adrian softly kissed my hair, causing me to stiffen and grow nervous. When he began stroking my face and lips and arms, Edison's words flooded my mind.

 _He's just treating you as another conquest. The only thing he cares about is becoming king and making royal babies_. Was this seriously true? Was Prince Adrian using me for his benefit? I was becoming quite uncomfortable with him openly touching me, and I was afraid it was going to lead to more intense things. The thoughts were so unraveling...

I broke away.

He eyed me strangely, his emerald-green orbs filled with confusion. "Why'd you move away? Is something the matter?" he questioned, coming closer to me on the soft blanket. I didn't answer instantaneously—I was too occupied with calming myself down. My mind was spinning. My heart was thundering. Breaths erupted from my mouth.

It was now completely dark, and the sky was tainted with a midnight-blue hue. Thousands of stars twinkled above us while the moon gave a silver glow to the crashing ocean. It was colder than before, and I had no cloak or cardigan. I didn't feel comfortable having this date go any further, so I made an excuse. "It's very dark and cold out here. Maybe we should call it a night and go home," I suggested, wrapping my arms around myself to make it convincing.

Prince Adrian fell sad and reluctantly nodded, helping me up and packing everything away. He didn't move close to me or try to touch me—he kept his distance. Some sand got in my shoes, swishing around my feet as we walked to his parked carriage.

The coachmen woke up at hearing us and immediately sat upright. "Where to, sire?"

"Mazur Manor," Prince Adrian deadpanned. It was silent after that, and he and I loaded into the carriage, which took off right when we closed the doors. Prince Adrian and I sat across from each other on the velvet seats, keeping our gazes averted. The atmosphere became awkward and tense as the carriage wheels started bumping over cobblestones.

Quickly, we arrived at the manor. The coachmen opened the doors for us, and Prince Adrian led me to the front entrance, finally looking me in the eye. His emerald-green orbs seemed distant and sad. "I had a lovely time tonight," he managed to say in a sweet voice. "I hope you did as well, and I'll see you soon. Goodnight, Rosemarie." Prince Adrian bowed like a gentleman then retreated to his carriage, disappearing inside. I held my breath and watched it leave.

My heart knotted in my chest. I had no clue if I enjoyed myself during our date. The food had been delicious and the setting was beautiful; however, it had felt as if I was with the wrong person. Prince Adrian had made our time together special, but…he didn't feel that type of special to me.

The sound of a door opening brought me out of my reverie. Jillian was standing in the threshold, her light brown hair catching the light from our crystal chandeliers. "You're back," she noted. "How was the outing? Was it splendid? Was it all you could ever hope for and dream of?"

I put on an indecisive, conflicted look. "In some aspects, yes." My stepsister studied me for a few moments, then left it alone, stepping aside to let me enter the manor. I immediately headed up the wrought, iron staircase and went to my bedchamber. I began hanging up the dress Prince Adrian had given me and put all of the accessories away.

I was so occupied that I hadn't noticed Father's sudden appearance. When he started talking, I jumped and spun around, facing away from my closet. "Where've you been, Rosemarie? You were gone all evening," he demanded very sternly.

I frowned and placed my hands on my hips. "Prince Adrian took me out on a date," I reminded him. "I informed you of this when I came home from school. And you gave me permission." Father's chestnut-brown eyes darkened, and he didn't seem that happy. Yet, he grew distracted once he caught sight of the dress, which was hanging from my grip.

"Did he give you that?" he pressed, pointing at it as if it was a monster.

I clutched it to my chest and replied, "Yes, Father. And I'm keeping it." We stared at each other fiercely for several moments before he sighed in defeat, suddenly seeming very tired and weary. He rubbed his eyes and stroked his dark goatee. I moved closer to him, questioning, "Is something the matter?"

Father was silent for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet, almost a whisper. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Rosemarie. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally and be by your side no matter what. Someone who will always put you first and treat you wonderfully. Someone who cares about you so much that they'll even die for you."

"Who will that be, Father?" I asked, my voice so small and full of trembles.

"I don't know, Kizim, but I do know that it is not Prince Adrian."

I inhaled a sharp breath. A tear leaked out of my eye and cascaded down my cheek. Father watched me as he stood like a statue, his face emotional and his voice silent. After what seemed like an eternity, he left.

I crawled into bed and tried to sleep, but my eyes never closed.

* * *

 **Hmm...who is the real, special person for Rose?;)**

 **Adrian's party and Dimitri's ball will be soon, I promise. Just hang in there!**

 **Review, review, review readers!:)**

 **Until next time...**


	8. Chapter 8: Confessions

**Just to clarify for those who were wondering: This is a Rose and Dimitri story. It may not seem like it now, but it will happen;)**

 **Adrian's party and Dimitri's ball will come soon; I'm trying to space the story out. Just bear with me. With that said, enjoy reading!:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

Her gloved hand lightly touched my shoulder, as if she suspected I was dead. I could almost feel her jade-green eyes boring into me—she was silent and lowly breathing for a long while. I was ready to turn over...until Jillian softly said, "Rosemarie, you need to get dressed. We have school, and we're going to be late if you don't hurry."

Going to Fairston Academy was the last thing on my mind. Its Gothic architecture and art seemed to be a distant memory. I had been lying awake all night pondering my date with Prince Adrian—did it feel right or did it feel wrong; would I do it again; should I even go to his party? It was consuming me inside, and I knew I had to forget about it.

However, not thinking about it would make me feel guilty. If I couldn't go through with our courtship, I'd have to tell Prince Adrian, and his feelings would be hurt. He wanted me to be with him so much…I couldn't just crush his heart.

I rolled onto my side, staring at Jillian's chartreuse dress. "I'm not going," I replied distractedly. "I don't feel well." My stepsister narrowed her gaze in suspicion, remaining rigid as she looked down at me. It took every ounce of willpower to keep myself rooted in place, to not give her the slightest indication of my thoughts.

Unfortunately, it failed. For a fifteen-year-old, Jillian was quite observant and mature. She could easily tell when something was happening. "Why is that?" she pressed, leaning slightly. "Are you sick, achy, or weak? Should I tell Mother and your father?"

My head shook. I finally met her gaze. "No. I just don't want to go. It's that simple," I smoothly evaded. Jillian's pale, pretty face fell into skepticism, yet she dropped the matter and nodded, getting off my bed. I watched her walk over to my mahogany door then pause.

Her concealed hand was on the knob—a nice contrast of white and gold. "Vasilisa isn't going to school, either," my stepsister informed, now facing me. There was a pause. "Perhaps you can talk to her about Christian. She's still acting strange." Jillian gave me one last look before exiting, the door quietly closing behind her.

I lay on my bed, pondering again, but of Vasilisa this time. I couldn't believe she was skipping school today. She'd never commit such a thing. She'd go to Fairston Academy with her sister by her side, strutting down the hallways and acting as if she owned it all. She'd belittle me and my friends, isolate me from her...everything!

Now, she was a stranger in her own body. She wore black; her hair was imperfect; her skin was paler and makeup-free; her eyes looked tortured. Jillian had sounded a bit worried about Vasilisa, and frankly, I was as well. I wanted my stepsister back—I actually kind of missed the treatment she had given me. Maybe I should seriously talk to her and get her issues cleared so we could all go back to normal.

With resurfaced strength, I climbed out of bed and left my bedchamber. I still had on my white, flowing dress from last night and instantly, memories of what had happened invaded my mind. Prince Adrian twirling me. Prince Adrian making a toast. Prince Adrian touching me…

I pinched myself to rid the remembrances. _Vasilisa is the concern, right now. Not Prince Adrian._

After running that through my head several times, I arrived at Vasilisa's bedchamber and tentatively knocked on the door. For some reason, sweat gathered underneath my clothes, and my heart began pounding. Why was I suddenly so nervous? I was just going to talk to her.

The door opened. Vasilisa stood in the threshold, a jet-black nightgown cascading down her slender frame and emphasizing her pale skin. She stared at me in surprise. "What are you doing here? You should be on your way to school with Jillian."

"I'm wondering the same thing," I replied levelly. "Anyway, my explanation is because I don't feel like spending a bunch of hours listening to boring lectures." I then cleared my throat and cut straight to the truth. "Jillian told me that you were still acting peculiarly, and she wanted me to talk to you and maybe help rid whatever's bothering you."

Vasilisa froze at my words, her jade-green eyes wide. She then tried to slam the door in my face; however, I threw my hands out at the right time and pushed back, causing her to stumble into her room. "Get out, Rosemarie. I don't want to talk," she firmly said after regaining her balance. "Leave me alone."

I marched forward and crossed my arms. "No. We're going to talk, whether you like it or not. I can tell that something's disturbing you. You can deny it all you want. I'm tired of everything being different. I want all of us back to normal." Vasilisa stared at me, silent. I kicked the door closed, the sound echoing off the light pink walls.

My stepsister began biting her fine nails, something I had never seen her do. She paced like a caged animal until she finally stopped and sank to the floor. I said nothing and merely sat down across from her, waiting as the hardwood floor chilled my skin.

"I found Christian in the church yesterday," Vasilisa whispered. My eyes widened in disbelief. So she did know that he had liked to hide there. "I…finally had the courage to apologize for the cruel things I said about his parents. He actually listened…and…he forgave me."

My mouth fell open. Christian forgave Vasilisa? Oh my goodness...how could this be? She had judged and ostracized him like everyone else at our school. She had never went near him. She had never talked to him. I didn't understand. "He really gave you a chance?" I asked, still swimming in utter disbelief.

Vasilisa nodded, keeping her bright gaze down. "Yes…and..." She broke off, chewing on her cupid bow lip, fiddling with her thumbs, tapping her foot hysterically. I watched her erratic behavior, confused and curious all at once. What else was eating at her? Why was she behaving as if her mind was falling apart?

"What?" I urged.

She closed her eyes, as if that could protect her from my penetrating gaze. In the smallest, softest voice, Vasilisa answered, "I told Christian…that I liked him." It was so quiet that I could only hear the beating of my heart as I held my breath. I couldn't comprehend. This didn't make any sense. How in the hell could my stepsister—the one who gave me the harshest treatment—have feelings for a boy who she treated as her enemy?

"You're lying," I said, unable to process her words and unwilling to believe them. "You didn't say that to Christian. You _never_ said that to Christian. Ever."

At this, Vasilisa's eyes snapped open, their jade-green color electrified. She immediately stood up, her fists clenched at her sides. "It's true," she argued. "I confessed it to him and I meant every. Single. Word." Shaking my head, I quickly got off the floor and started leaving. I couldn't listen to this anymore.

It was nonsensical. It was ridiculous. It was _insane_.

"Rosemarie! Will you stop and just listen to me?" Vasilisa marched after me and grabbed my wrist once she was in range. Her grip was surprisingly tight and strong, and she was able to drag me back to where I'd been. Once I didn't move away, she exhaled loudly, gathering some of her platinum-blond hair and pulling it. "I really told Christian that I liked him, all right? I'm not lying or making anything up. It's completely true," she insisted.

All I could say was, "When? How?"

Vasilisa sat down on her bed and explained, "Ever since we started attending Fairston Academy, at fourteen years of age. I would watch him from afar, admiring his dark, mysterious features—the raven-black hair, ice-blue eyes, tallness, and pale skin. I thought he was handsome, and what captured me even more was his toughness for handling how others were judging him because of his parents. Yet, my heart broke at seeing how lonely he truly felt. I wanted to talk to him. Get to actually know him."

"Then why didn't you? He would've appreciated it," I sneered, unable to help myself.

An actual tear leaked out of Vasilisa's eye and slid down her cheek. Her voice was full of self-hate. "Because I was superficial. I was extremely popular at school, remember? Everyone was my friend, and they all ostracized him for his parents' actions. I didn't want to lose my reputation…so I joined in."

"Vasilisa—"

"I was so reluctant to do it," she continued. "However, in order to convince myself, I kept thinking that he wouldn't want to be with me. I kept thinking that Christian wouldn't want to court a popular, spoiled girl who was just like everyone else. So, I forced myself to be cruel and arrogant to steel my heart and soul, because I thought it was for the best."

A gasp escaped my mouth. My voice got trapped in my throat.

More tears fell down her cheeks, cascading in faster streams. "But it killed me every time I made the horrible comments and assumptions. When we argued that night and he hit me, I shattered. I couldn't bear with myself any longer. For days, I tortured myself for all of the wrongdoings I did to him—I faced my demons. Yesterday had been wonderful. I emptied myself to Christian, and he didn't have the reaction I had thought. It made me feel whole inside," Vasilisa finished, her body crumbling and appearing as if she'd fall off her bed.

I slowly walked over to her and kneeled, putting my hand around her chin to lift up her head. Her eyes were immensely red and puffy. I finally found my voice. "I'm glad you talked to me and finally got this weight off your chest. You realized that you didn't need to be so cruel to Christian, and that he would've given a relationship with you a chance. That's terrific. I'm also glad that you learned your lesson."

Vasilisa nodded, wiping her tears away. She put on a small smile. "Thank you for listening to me, Rosemarie." My stepsister paused for a few moments until a resolute look surfaced on her face. "You know, I think it's time that I stop being mean to you, and not just Christian. Being a part of nobility doesn't give me the right to act like a spoiled, rotten brat. I'm sorry."

"Of course, and I understand why you did what you did. Now that it is behind you, you can move forward and make better choices in the future." I gave her a quick hug, which she returned right away. After that, I stood up and placed my hands on my hips. "I decree that your first, positive choice should be to have a pleasant breakfast with me. I'm famished," I suggested.

Vasilisa smiled and followed me.

* * *

 **October 15** **th** **, 1685**

 **This morning was an emotional whirlwind. Vasilisa truthfully confessed to me that she apologized to Christian and had feelings for him. I would have never guessed if Jillian had not told me to talk to her. I will admit that what she did to him was still angering, yet she had her reasons and the problem was resolved. I wonder if Christian feels the same way...**

 **Now that this is done being discussed, I can move on to Prince Adrian. He is still consuming my mind, and I am afraid to come to terms with my feelings. He is a fantastic man with a fantastic appearance, personality, and status; however, I think that the most I could do with him is court.**

 **I cannot picture a long-term relationship. Yes, we would be a beautiful couple standing together at events and taking royal portraits, but would I really marry him? Would I really carry and give birth to his children?**

 **What if it would not work out? There would be no chance for a divorce. What if he got lovers and slept with other girls in secret? That is normal for royal men, but could I handle it?**

 **I suppose the only way to find out is to try some more—keep thinking and discovering as time goes by.**

 **Hopefully, I can finally make a decision by Prince Adrian's party. Before Cesarevich Dimitri's ball.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

"What are you writing?" wondered a fairly deep, masculine voice. I jumped, slapping my red velvet journal shut and swiftly locking it with the gold key. My head cocked up and my eyes found Christian staring down at me, his ice-blue eyes curious.

A gulp ripped through my throat. I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. "Just girly matters," I evaded, "like fashion, boys, and royal lifestyles." Thankfully, he believed me and quickly fell disinterested, coming over to lean against my ebony bedframe. I set my private things aside, asking, "Why'd you come here?"

"I want to know why you didn't attend school today. Edison and Mia were concerned, and I was downright confused. Also, we noticed that Jillian Dragomir came while Vasilisa didn't," Christian answered smoothly. He then crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes becoming serious. "Care to explain your absence?"

I twiddled my thumbs in the lap of my white dress, hesitant to speak. Should I tell him that it was really because of Prince Adrian or make up some stupid excuse like I had done when Jillian asked me earlier? After moments of blistering silence, I sighed and admitted, "I went on a date with Prince Adrian last night, and it left me very conflicted."

Christian's ice-blue eyes slightly narrowed. His black brows furrowed. "You went on a date with him? When did he even meet you?"

"He visited our school a couple weeks ago. He noticed me in one of the hallways and we talked. He…invited me to have dinner with his family before his party, and I agreed. However, my father is prohibiting me from having dinner with him. After that, he sent me many gifts and officially courted me yesterday," I elaborated. Before Christian could say a word, I added, "Vasilisa didn't go to school today because of yesterday also."

Christian growled, "Was it because of Prince Adrian?"

"No, it was because of you. I talked to her this morning, and she confessed that she apologized to you and has feelings for you," I said. He was pale and dead silent, so I watched him closely as I questioned, "Is the feeling mutual? Do you like Vasilisa the way she likes you?"

Christian shut his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply for several moments. I waited patiently for him to respond, and when he did, I was surprised. "Yes," he lowly revealed. "I like her back. I have for a long time, but I didn't do anything because I thought she'd never give me a chance. I thought she'd get belittled alongside me and people would end up tearing us apart. I thought she was too good for me."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "She thought _you_ wouldn't want to be with _her_."

He sighed and nodded, suddenly seeming small. "I know. She told me her explanations yesterday, in the church attic. I couldn't believe it myself. Someone had actually cared about me all this time, and I never knew. When you befriended me a couple weeks ago, it was great, but it wasn't the same as someone doing it because they were romantically interested in me."

"I understand. I'd feel that way, too," I replied softly.

Christian continued, "When I delivered that hit, I could hardly look at my reflection in the mirror. I felt awful. I felt like a person who committed an unforgivable crime—just like my parents. I thought I'd never be able to face her again. Yet, Vasilisa pursued me, despite everything, and I'm glad she did." He then widened his eyes, processing everything he had let out. "My goodness, I never revealed this much to anyone."

"How does it feel?"

A slight smile pulled at his lips—a genuine smile. "It feels great." Right when he finished, the door of my bedchamber opened to reveal Vasilisa, who shyly looked at Christian, tentative to come in. His ice-blue eyes brightened at the sight of her. "Hi, Lissa," he greeted enthusiastically.

For the first time, I saw my most wicked stepsister sincerely smile. She was truly happy to see him, to have him like her and not avoid her because of her past cruelty. "Hi, Christian," she greeted in return. Vasilisa then focused her attention on me, apology swimming in her jade-green eyes. "Forgive me, Rosemarie, but I didn't mean to come in here without permission.

It took me a while to respond, for it was strange hearing her be polite to me. I supposed she really was taking her own advice about abandoning cruel and rude behavior. "It's all right, really. You meant no harm," I dismissed. She nodded, coming over to stand beside Christian, their proximity close. As they stared at each other, the intensity became palpable, and I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable. They both looked at me. "Did Christian call you Lissa?" I asked, dumbfounded.

She slightly nodded. "Yes. When we talked in the church attic, he told me that he had been thinking of beautiful nicknames to call me." Vasilisa blushed as she continued. "He settled upon Lissa and said that he wanted to address me by that name from now on. I agreed."

A question surfaced in my head; however, I was hesitant to voice it. Christian noticed the contemplative look on my face and asked, "What are you thinking about, Rosemarie?" My blond stepsister gazed at me expectantly, awaiting an answer.

I replied quietly, "I was just wondering if Vasilisa would allow me to call her Lissa too." I sort of expected a definite no, yet she smiled kindly, her jade-green eyes warm, her cold heart and soul melted. It felt magnificent having her treat me fairly and sweetly, and I was sure she also felt the same way.

"Of course, Rosemarie. I'd love it," she permitted. Her smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling as well, which even made Christian smile soon after. We stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, until Jillian came running in, her light brown hair flying around her.

She immediately went to Lissa, her chest heaving from laborious breaths. Lissa stared at her concernedly, grabbing Jillian by her thin shoulders, trying to keep her in place. "What's going on? Is something wrong?" she fired out in a fluid rush.

It took some time for Jillian to answer. Once she calmed down, I saw excitement dance in her pale green eyes. The emotion then spread to her whole body, brightening her features. She said, "Prince Adrian sent the invitations to his party. It's going to be at the end of this month."

* * *

 **Yay, Lissa's back to her normal self!**

 **Hope you all liked the chapter:)**

 **Don't forget to review, my readers!**


	9. Chapter 9: The Prince and the Party

**Here's what you've all been waiting for...Adrian's party! I originally didn't have it for this chapter, but then I thought it over and decided to just make it happen. I know it almost took a week to update, but I was busy from school. I'll try to not let it go longer than a week without updating. With all that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV—Two Weeks Later**

"Are you excited for this evening?" asked Lissa, running her nimble fingers through my dark, luscious tresses. I sat in front of my giant, full-length mirror, watching as she carefully and expertly styled my hair. Her jade-green eyes stared at my reflection expectantly, waiting for an answer. Silence hung around us as I was trying to think of what to say.

Prince Adrian and I had still been courting over the past couple of weeks, yet I didn't think I was wholeheartedly into our relationship as much as he was. Prince Adrian had showered me in gifts; he had took me to multiple venues for romantic dates; he had dropped me off at Fairston Academy and picked me up. Everyone now knew that I was his territory, and no one challenged him about it. He was making the message insanely clear.

With Prince Adrian's party being tonight, I felt both reluctant and enthusiastic. My brain was demanding me to be energetic and absolutely interested in the entire event; however, my heart dreaded having to go and dance and dine with Prince Adrian. Of course, if I had just addressed to him how I truly felt, none of this would be happening.

I couldn't understand why I was being so cowardly about this.

"Rose, you haven't answered yet. Is it really that difficult?" Lissa said exasperatedly, finishing the combing and brushing so she could curl my hair. She had started calling me Rose a little over a week ago, claiming that it was only fair, since she had allowed me to call her Lissa. I loved it so much, it made my heart swell every time she said it.

We were now considered equals, and it was like my highest wish had been made real. It meant that I was no longer perceived or treated as inferior. It meant that we could truly be stepsisters in a positive sense. Jillian had never been as horrible as Lissa, yet her words had still hurt me. She now knew that we had resolved the issue, and she absolutely loved our new relationship. She even wanted me to call her Jill.

I stopped my reminiscing, realizing that Lissa needed her question answered. I shrugged. "I suppose I'm excited," I replied in monotone. She rose a blond brow at me. "I mean, I'm glad that I'll finally get to see the royal palace and meet his family, but I don't want to be with Prince Adrian all night. I really don't."

Lissa's jade-green eyes widened in shock. "How can you say that? He's been so good to you!" She continued curling my hair, parting sections and placing aside the ones already done. "If I wasn't courting Christian, I'd be ecstatic if I had a relationship with Prince Adrian. He's so amazing," Lissa exclaimed, her voice glazed with truth.

My head immediately shook in disagreement. "No, he's suffocating. He won't leave me alone. He always wants to be with me. He always wants to know what I'm doing. Prince Adrian is practically obsessed with me, and I don't like it. I don't want our courtship anymore," I argued, my voice slightly cracking with emotion.

She paused, observing me meticulously. Her pale, pretty features filled with sympathy and pain. "I can see how all of this is making you unhappy, Rose," Lissa softly responded. "I don't want you being with someone who's forcing love upon you and not letting you decide for yourself." She placed half of my hair up and clipped it with a bejeweled pin. "You should tell Prince Adrian that you can't go on any further," she advised.

Once I heard that, I shot up from the wooden stool I had been sitting on, causing her to jump back in surprise. "No! I can't tell him. I'm afraid I'll hurt his feelings, and it'll humiliate him in front of all of England, once they find out that someone rejected him. Probably the whole world. I don't want to give his family a bad name," I reasoned, the worries pouring out of my mouth like water out of a broken pipe. I paced as if I was a wild animal, biting at my nails, avoiding Lissa's eyes.

Her gaze followed me as I acted hysterically, silent and deep in thought. After a few moments, Lissa lectured, "Rose, you have to face your fears. You can't let these feelings dominate you. It isn't healthy. If you don't break out of the courtship now, there's a likely chance Prince Adrian will marry you. There's a likely chance that you'll bear him heirs. Don't let it get that far; save yourself from suffering."

I halted in my path, slowly turning to face her. Lissa's jade-green eyes penetrated my dark, chestnut-brown ones with a knowing stare. Giving in, I sighed and nodded. "You're right. I can't keep avoiding the matter by running away. This needs to be confronted and resolved," I agreed in a strongly convincing voice.

Lissa clapped her hands and smiled. "Perfect! Now let's get you all dressed up," she gushed. My blond stepsister helped me out of my royal-purple robe—she had decided to give it back to me after we renewed our relationship—and ushered me into some black, lacy undergarments before slipping me into the blood-red, satin gown Prince Adrian had given me as a present. It lightly hugged and flattered my slender yet curvy figure, perfectly accentuating my breasts, waist, and hips.

I gasped after Lissa added the black gloves and sash. I really appeared beautiful. My face was lightly coated with natural-looking makeup. My curled hair fell down my back like a luscious waterfall. My feet rested in high, black heels. I loved it. "My goodness," I breathed. "I look absolutely gorgeous, Lissa! You did such excellent work."

She playfully curtsied. "Why, thank you, Rose." She was already dressed in a pale pink, flowing gown with lacy, ivory gloves. Her platinum-blond hair was in a neat, braided bun, and a fake tiara sat on top of her head. She wore pink, pearl jewelry while I was adorned with rubies. "We both look stunning, actually. Come on, let's see if Jill is ready," Lissa suggested, grabbing my hand and leading us to her sister's bedchamber.

Right when we arrived, Jill walked out, nearly bumping into us. Her eyes widened as she witnessed our appearances. "Oh my, you girls look so lovely," she sincerely complimented.

I pointed at her. "So do you," I said with a smile. Jill blushed shyly, feeling a little uncomfortable with being the center of attention. She was wearing an indigo gown with pure-white gloves; matching heels; sapphire-blue jewelry; a light amount of dark makeup; and her light brown hair was loose and wavy down her back. She looked older than fifteen years of age, yet she still looked youthful.

Lissa began looking down the long hallways, in search of a clock. "Do any of you know what time is it? We can't be late to Prince Adrian's party," she wondered in slight worry. I cringed when I heard his name, remembering what I was going to have to do regarding our courtship. Jill eyed me curiously, confused at my unpleasant reaction.

I decided to explain to her later.

"We'll go downstairs to find out how late it has gotten," I said, walking ahead while Lissa and Jill followed, our voluminous gowns pooling around us as we descended the wrought, iron staircase and came into the commodious foyer. Father was already waiting, his hands clasped in front of his black suit, quietly humming to himself.

When he saw us, his chestnut-brown eyes sparkled. "You all look very beautiful," he proudly complimented. He came closer to give us all one, giant hug. "I'm sure you'll be stars at Prince Adrian's party," Father continued, his voice slightly faltering its pleasant tone. I didn't blame him anymore. I wasn't a fan of England's prince either.

We smiled and replied in a chorus of thank yous.

Out of nowhere, Rhea appeared in a charcoal-grey gown, her thin lips in a frown and jade-green eyes blazing as she sauntered over. My horrible stepmother wrapped her arms around Father's and glared at me while admiring her daughters. "You look so gorgeous, Vasilisa and Jillian," she lovingly gushed. When she faced me, she demanded, "Where'd you even get that dress, Rosemarie? I've never seen it before."

I unconsciously smoothed the blood-red satin, as if to calm myself. "Prince Adrian gave it to me on the day he took me out on a date," I maturely replied. Internally, I was so sick and tired of Rhea constantly trying to ruin everything for me. And now that Lissa and Jill were nice to me, they were probably feeling the same way.

Rhea clenched her jaw and narrowed her darkening gaze. "He took you out on a date? That was highly inappropriate—the prince is supposed to remain neutral until he finally decides who'll be his bride. But now, he isn't because he's courting _you_. Vasilisa and Jillian will probably have no chance anymore!" she practically screamed, her pale face reddening.

My stepsisters and I stood there tensely as she said that last sentence. Lissa didn't care about Prince Adrian now that she was courting Christian, and Jill didn't mind not becoming his bride. She was excited for the party yet wasn't interested in getting a relationship out of it.

Father removed one of Rhea's hands from his arm and squeezed. He looked at her intensely. "Darling, I know you're upset about Prince Adrian courting Rosemarie, yet that doesn't mean he'll automatically choose her to be his princess. Anything can happen," Father pointed out. My stepmother sighed and nodded reluctantly, still unhappy. She let go of his arm and walked away in silence.

With that issue gone, he clapped his hands and ushered us out of the manor. We hurried to the awaiting carriage, where the coachmen held the doors open for us. We loaded inside and sat on the velvet seats, waving at Father from the window. "Goodbye! We'll see you later!" we called from the carriage.

He waved back and smiled. "Have a wonderful time, girls! Enjoy!"

The coachmen scrambled to the front, gripped the reins, and urged the horses to start trotting down the cobblestoned roads that lead to the royal palace. The silver moon was illuminating the earth from above, and our surroundings were hidden in darkness. I hoped that we wouldn't arrive late. We _couldn't_ arrive late.

Lissa suddenly squeezed my hand. Her jade-green eyes pierced mine. "Don't fret, Rose. We'll make it to the party. The coachmen know what time it starts," she assured. I nodded, but her words did nothing to alleviate my unease.

I took a deep breath and stared into the night.

* * *

"Your names, mademoiselles?" an old man asked, his belly protruding in his tight suit, a clipboard and quill clutched in his fat hands.

"Rosemarie Mazur, Vasilisa Dragomir, and Jillian Dragomir," I responded, itching to just strut inside and experience the party already. My stepsisters waited in impatient irritation as he scanned down the list as fast as his poor eyesight could allow. Finally, he found our names and checked them off, stepping aside to let us enter.

"Prince Adrian thanks you in advance for attending. Enjoy." We ignored him and went into the lavish ballroom. Countless, crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling and shimmered like jewels. Expensive drapes covered the enormous, glass windows. Multiple, round tables had delicate cloths, centerpieces, and chairs on the marble floor all throughout the room. Beautiful paintings decorated the colorful walls, alongside portraits of the British royal family.

Lissa and Jill gasped. "This is so wonderful!" they breathed in unison, gazing all around the ballroom in awe. I nodded in astonishment as well, taken away by the gorgeous setting we stood in. There had to be hundreds, possibly thousands of maidens already here, each one looking pretty in her gown and itching to meet and be chosen by Prince Adrian.

I looked directly across from the entrance and found King Nathan and Queen Daniella Ivashkov regally sitting in their majestic thrones. Bejeweled crowns sat upon their heads, and he was clad in the most royal suit while she wore the most magnificent gown. They silently scrutinized the crowd of maidens, probably determining for themselves who'd they'd like to wed Prince Adrian.

"Oh my god, I can't believe we're in the same room as the king and queen. This is like a dream come true!" exclaimed Lissa, nearly jumping up and down while Jill bounced beside her. I giggled at them, for their reactions were so typical. I then got them to follow me to a table where I saw our names.

We sat down in the plush seats. I stared in wonder at the encrusted, gold silverware, imported plates from China, and fragile wine glasses. "Everything is so ornate…I almost feel out of place being at this party. There's such a royal atmosphere," I said, still absorbing all that was around me. Lissa and Jill nodded in agreement, placing white napkins on their laps.

We talked to each other for a few more minutes, until King Nathan cleared his throat and demanded everyone's attention. He shared the medium-brown hair and emerald-green eyes with his son, and I was sure Prince Adrian would look like that when he got older. "I appreciate you maidens for coming from all parts of the world just to make our son happy," he thanked, sparing a glance at the queen, who smiled. "He deserves someone special, and I'm glad the time has finally come for him to achieve that."

King Nathan sat down, and Queen Daniella took over. "We'd like Adrian to marry a princess, since he's old enough to ascend the throne," she said in all honesty. A fair amount of maidens huffed in sadness and defeat, yet she quickly continued, "However, we're aware that he wanted to have this party to also include those of noble blood, so if he chooses a lord's daughter, Adrian can still have a princess, yet he can't become king unless the people approve." The noise calmed down and Queen Daniella retreated to her throne.

King Nathan announced, "It is time for dinner, so maidens, please take your seats and prepare to wine and dine." Girls and women immediately went to their assigned tables and lightly conversed as the chefs began serving the appetizers. A young woman with dark blond hair that fell to her shoulders sat at my table, clad in a simple yet pretty gold gown. A cross hung around her neck, sparkling under the ballroom light.

I nudged Lissa, making her notice the girl. She widened her pale green eyes in surprise, but quickly recovered and introduced herself with a smile. "Hello, my name is Vasilisa Dragomir," she politely said.

The girl looked at her, smiling back. Her eyes were hazel with flecks of gold. "Hello, I'm Sydney Sage," she introduced in a mature, professional tone. "It's nice to meet you, Vasilisa." Sydney caught notice of me and Jill. "And who might you two be?" she wondered.

"I'm Rosemarie Mazur, and that's Jillian Dragomir," I answered, pointing to myself and Jill, who smiled shyly but didn't say anything.

Sydney nodded in realization. "So you're the girl that Prince Adrian's courting," she clarified for herself, saying it softly, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. Lissa narrowed her eyes in suspicious curiosity while Jill's face turned thoughtful. Did Sydney know Prince Adrian already? It kind of sounded like she did.

I decided to question, "How do you that?"

She simply shrugged her slender shoulders, dismissing the issue's importance. "It's very obvious that he has been flaunting his relationship with you. The whole world should know about it by now," Sydney smoothly replied. I was about to question her further, when the chefs came out with steaming, silver trays and began serving each table.

We received caviar and bread rolls, crab cakes, and salad with duck soup. I scrunched my nose at the fish egg dip, but I approved everything else and began eating the delicious food. Out of nowhere, Prince Adrian appeared in all his dashing glory, causing all of the maidens to squeal and shout his name. I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on eating; however, that was short-lived when he came to my table and politely made a girl give his seat to him.

Sydney quickly averted her gaze from him, stabbing her fork into her salad. I noticed that Prince Adrian's eyes lingered on her for a sliver of a second before he put on a smile. "You look absolutely beautiful, Rosemarie," he whispered in my ear, observing my body in the dress he had given me. He then said hello to Lissa and Jill, who introduced themselves to him before continuing eating.

"Thank you," I politely said, hoping to end conversation as I stuffed a crab cake into my mouth. A chef came by with a silver tray of appetizers and placed it in front of Prince Adrian, who didn't even bother to show gratitude since he was so focused on me. I was sure that all of the other maidens were enflamed with jealousy and glaring holes into my back.

"What do you think of the party so far?" asked Prince Adrian, dipping a bread roll into some caviar. Sydney squirmed a little in her chair, looking uncomfortable and ready to bolt away. Prince Adrian immediately flicked his gaze to her, an unidentifiable emotion swimming in his emerald-green eyes. What the hell was going on? Why was there awkward tension between them?

"I think it's lovely," answered Lissa, attempting to ease the tension. Jill nodded in agreement, and thankfully, it directed Prince Adrian's attention back to me and not Sydney, who seemed relieved. "The palace ballroom is exceptionally regal. Well done."

"It sure is great to hear such positive words," he beamed, swelling with male pride and ego. I wanted to roll my eyes at his arrogance, yet refrained from causing something unpleasant. Secretly, Prince Adrian rested his hand on my knee under the table, slowly caressing the satin material. Now I was the one becoming uncomfortable. If only he could just attend to the other maidens and not me…

Fortunately, he stopped after a while, and an hour later, the entrée was served. We were given lamb chops, sautéed vegetables, and potatoes with red wine. It was even better than the appetizer, and everyone ate while lightly conversing. When the next hour arrived, King Nathan announced, "It is now time for all maidens to dance with Prince Adrian. Girls and ladies, get in a single file line and wait your turn to dance with my son."

In a vicious frenzy, the other females fought each other for the first spot in line, pushing and shoving and arguing. Prince Adrian watched in amusement as they competed for his affection, which was downright shameful on his part and sad on theirs.

I personally didn't enjoy being treated as some prize on a pedestal. Love wasn't a game. And, I sure wouldn't kill myself trying to make one man love me when there were plenty others who were just as available and qualified. Like Cesarevich Dimitri.

After a few minutes, a maiden victoriously became the first in line and practically ran into Prince Adrian's arms. They waltzed as the royal pianist, violinist, and harpist played. He was being polite by smiling and saying a few words, yet I could tell that he didn't feel a special connection. One after another, the maidens danced with Prince Adrian, and it was the same situation—one-sided feelings. Lissa and Jill waltzed with him after a while, practically being the only girls who actually didn't care and weren't overcome with infatuation.

Sydney's turn was right before mine, and when she placed a small hand in Prince Adrian's and rested the other on his shoulder, I saw some emotion burning between them. They danced quite intimately, never breaking their gazes and uttering a word—it was almost as if they were in their own, little world. He gave her his attention, and he kept their proximity close, his hands locked on her hips.

Everyone watched their interaction, and maidens were actually too engaged to even be jealous. King Nathan and Queen Daniella also spectated with keen interest and observation, mentally categorizing Sydney as a potential bride. Did Prince Adrian have feelings for Sydney? Did he have a previous courtship with her? What was their history?

I was so entangled in my thoughts that I hadn't realized it was my turn. Prince Adrian held out his hand to me, and I took it, curtsying as he bowed. The royal musicians played as we danced away. He made an excellent job of focusing on me and keeping us synchronized, yet the passion wasn't present.

Prince Adrian's body was with me, but his mind was on Sydney. For the first time, he wasn't concerned about me leaving him and getting claimed by someone else. He was concerned about another young woman—another person who apparently possessed a part of his heart.

The dance ended after some time, and he led me back to my table, but he left to go mingle with the other maidens. Lissa and Jill had surprise written all over their faces, mind blown by the unusual interaction between me and Prince Adrian. Lissa whispered, "Do you think you're going to need to end the courtship, or do you think he already considers it over?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I have no idea. Should I even bring it up?"

Jill flicked her confused gaze back and forth, trying to understand what she was hearing. A few moments later, she questioned, "Are you two talking about Prince Adrian?" We nodded. Realization dawned on her features. Her jade-green eyes widened. "Are you thinking about ending the relationship?" I nodded alone. "Why would you do that?"

I kept my voice low as I answered. "Because, I don't really have any feelings for him." Jill gasped. "He's been too forward with me and quite possessive, especially with the excessive gift giving. Also, I think he has feelings for Sydney."

Lissa asked, "You really believe that Prince Adrian likes Sydney?"

Jill inputted, "It can't be." I admitted that it sounded insane, yet I suspected that there was indeed something happening between them. And if it was true, then I believed that Prince Adrian needed to stop courting me if he wanted Sydney to be his bride.

Dessert arrived, and we devoured chocolate mousse cake with syrup and strawberries. When midnight came along, the king informed everyone that Prince Adrian would announce his decision by the end of next month. All of the maidens then exited the ballroom and loaded into their respective carriages.

The sky was so beautiful outside—the dazzling stars twinkled as the silver moon illuminated the darkness. My stepsisters and I were heading over to our carriage when Prince Adrian came running out, calling, "Rosemarie! Rosemarie, wait!" I turned around and stopped while Lissa and Jill went ahead. He was slightly out of breath when he reached me.

"Yes?" I asked, putting on a polite smile. I hoped he answered soon, for I was in no mood for mindless chatter. I seriously wanted to go home and sleep.

Prince Adrian replied, "Thank you for coming. I appreciate it." His emerald-green eyes sparkled in the dark night, and he leaned down to plant a kiss on my cheek. When he pulled away, he said, "I hope you enjoyed yourself, and…I hope that you'll understand who I decide to make my bride, no matter what."

I nodded, not sure how else to respond. "Sure." Prince Adrian nodded then retreated to the royal ballroom, disappearing inside. I didn't know what to think; so many thoughts were swirling inside my head.

Distantly, I heard Lissa call my name. "Rosemarie, hurry up! We need to get home!" I hurried to the carriage, jumping inside and slamming the door shut. The coachmen urged the horses to trot, and we started bumping along the cobblestoned roads again. She eyed curiously, her jade-green eyes narrowed. "What did he talk to you about?"

"He was just thanking me for coming and saying goodbye," I partially lied.

Lissa stared at me suspiciously, but eventually let the matter fade. I leaned against the velvet seat and gave the royal palace once last glance before turning away.

* * *

 **Looks like Adrian isn't that interested in Rose anymore...**

 **I don't want to rush the timeline, but I'll try to have Dimitri by chapter 11:)**

 **Don't forget to review, my readers!**


	10. Chapter 10: New Beginnings

**Here's the next chapter! It starts with Adrian's POV, but the rest is all Rose. I had time to update, so I decided to do so before the school week starts tomorrow for me. The next one should be this weekend. Enjoy reading!**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **APOV**

Once all of the maidens left the palace, I went to an empty table in the ballroom and practically swallowed a glass of red wine. The bitter liquid raced down my throat, lightly stirring my stomach, bringing me a familiar and comforting burn. I could hear my mother, Queen Daniella, coming up to me, her heeled shoes clicking against the marble floor.

"Adrian, what's wrong?" she questioned, placing her manicured hand on the shoulder of my suit jacket. Her forest-green eyes were swimming with worry as they penetrated me. I sighed loudly, setting the wine glass down, internally wishing that I could just continue drowning myself in alcohol without any disruptions.

I turned around to face her. "I'm stressed, Mother. How am I going to choose a bride in a month when there were countless maidens that came here tonight?" I demanded, running a hand through my stylishly messy, brown hair. She nodded in sympathy, moving closer to embrace me. I was too uneased to return the gesture, but I appreciated it.

"Your father has been the King of England for over two decades, Adrian. It's time for him to retire—his reign is actually quite overdue. You're twenty one years of age now, and you need to claim the throne very soon. I understand why your father gave you only one month to choose," my mother replied in the voice she used when she was in a parenting moment.

I ran a hand over my face. The stress and confliction hadn't lessened in any way. I decided to walk to another table and grab another glass of wine. As I drank, calmness possessed me and I felt better. My mother followed me, and when she reached my location, I said, "I don't know who I want my bride to be. I'm so confused," I lowly said, trying to prevent the stress from returning.

She brought up as if it was the most obvious thing, "What about Rosemarie Mazur? I thought you were going to choose her. You've been courting for a month." Hearing that made me tense and unsure of what to say. Rosemarie hadn't said anything, but I knew that she didn't have serious feelings for me. It was all in her body language—she hated it when I touched her, and she was growing annoyed with my constant gift giving. I thought she'd confess this during the party, yet I supposed she hadn't wanted to ruin the event.

Awkwardness began flowing into me. It was a strange feeling, for I had never been the awkward type. Maybe everyone experienced it at some point in life. I kept my gaze averted as I spoke. "I don't think it'd be a good idea if Rosemarie and I married, Mother," I carefully said. "I think I'm going to have to choose someone else." I felt her eyes staring me down. I then felt them widen in surprise.

When I looked at my mother, her pretty face was scrunched in confusion. She had her arms crossed. "I don't understand, Adrian. Why would you not marry Rosemarie? Who else could possibly be your bride, aside from her, anyway?" she asked, having a difficult time grasping my words. Instantly, my mind wandered to Sydney Sage. She was another maiden who I believed could have a chance at becoming my princess.

During the party, tension had lingered between us while I sat with Rosemarie and her friends. Rosemarie had looked so curious about whether we had some sort of relationship; however, she hadn't said anything. And, it made me a bit glad that she hadn't.

A couple of months ago, I had encountered Sydney Sage in France. I was staying with my Aunt Tatiana, the former Queen of England, and had gone to a tavern in hopes of getting immensely drunk and meeting a girl. Sydney wasn't that kind of girl, but I had found her there and we struck up a conversation. We had consumed a few drinks, and we ended up getting in bed together some time that night.

After that had occurred, we remained in contact, despite everything, and I had gotten to know her. Sydney loved architecture, and she had told me that she hoped to study it in Europe and get an advanced education, even though women were prohibited. Out of all of the girls I had met over the years, she captivated me the most. Sydney was very dedicated to what she loved and wanted—her heart was deep and her soul was pure.

When my parents had informed me that I needed to come back to England and find a bride, I was reluctant to leave France. It meant that I had to leave Sydney behind, which had me thinking that I'd never see her again. We had said goodbye, and when I met Rosemarie at Fairston Academy, I had courted her in hopes of forgetting Sydney—I tried to convince myself that I'd never come across her in the future. Once the party had been announced and all maidens of royal and noble blood could attend, I was uplifted. Sydney could _finally_ come back to me.

And she had, but I hadn't told Rosemarie about it and we hadn't ended our courtship. We both couldn't continue living like this, especially when our hearts were elsewhere. I loved her and Sydney very much, but I couldn't have both. I had to choose.

"Adrian, you didn't answer my questions," my mother said, snapping her fingers to get my attention. I broke out of my reverie, staring at her blankly. Her forest-green eyes pierced mine. "Why can't you marry Rosemarie, and who else is there?"

I wasn't ready to tell her the reasons. "You'll find out when I announce who my bride will be," was all I said.

* * *

 **RPOV—One Month Later**

Lissa was beside me, her delicate fingers gripping the sleeve of my turquoise dress. She was chewing on her glossed lip, dying to hear Prince Adrian's words travel from his mouth to her ears. "Can you believe a month has gone by already, Rose? Time progresses so quickly, and now we're about to find out who's going to be the Princess or Queen of England!" my stepsister gushed, barely able to contain herself.

We stood on the edge of the royal palace property, surrounded by countless bodies who were also anxious to hear the announcement. Maidens, lords, commoners, and peasants crowded together in eagerness, straining to see and hear. My body was bubbling with a mixture of emotions—excitement, nervousness, dread. Who was the lady that had captured his heart? Was it me? I hoped not.

Prince Adrian had stopped sending me presents over the course of the month. And, he stopped his visits at Fairston Academy. Our courtship wasn't officially over, yet I was sure it would be if his bride turned out to be someone else. Prince Adrian was a great man to know and be with, but he wasn't a great man for me. I just couldn't say that enough. I knew that there was a woman out there who happened to be his perfect match.

I rolled my eyes at Lissa. "Oh, calm down. This isn't a big deal," I said.

She faced me instantaneously, her jade-green eyes wide in disbelief. She scoffed, "Not a big deal? That is absolute rubbish, and you know it! Rose, you're this close to becoming England's princess. I realize that you don't have feelings for Prince Adrian, but how can you not be jumping out of your dress right now?"

Jill shook her head at Lissa, her light brown hair swinging around her pale face. "My dear sister, will you please give this a rest? You've been very hyperactive since we left the manor," she politely told her. Lissa reluctantly obeyed, crossing her slender arms over her small chest instead of gripping my arm. We continued waiting, until Edison, Mason, Christian, and Mia navigated over to us.

When they reached us, Mia embraced me and squealed, a gigantic smile pulling her lips. "Oh my goodness, Rosemarie, I'm so happy for you! And a little jealous, but mostly happy. You're going to become a princess, I tell you. A princess!" she let out in one breath, her face red with joy and her blond ringlets going about the place.

Christian walked over to Lissa, wrapping his arm around her waist and planting a soft kiss to her lips. "Hello, my sweet," he greeted lovingly. She blushed and snuggled into him. He then turned to Mia, his ice-blue eyes piercing hers. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. We don't know who Prince Adrian is going to pick—all of the maidens are fair game," he pointed out.

Edison nodded. "I completely agree." His hazel eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. "And he better not pick you. You deserve someone better than him," he protectively said. Mason and Mia remained silent, wanting to not get involved. I sighed and threw up my hands, tired of hearing the same talk about Prince Adrian.

"Will you stop?" I directed at Edison. He quickly fell apologetic, casting his head down. "I've had enough of hearing how I'm too good for Prince Adrian. And now that we're on this topic, I would like to announce that I've no feelings for him. I want our courtship to be over," I informed everyone.

Mason, Christian, Mia, and Edison gave me shocked and confused looks while Lissa and Jill remained unsurprised. There was a palpable silence for several moments before Christian finally found his voice. "You seriously don't want a relationship with Prince Adrian anymore?" I nodded. His ice-blue eyes then brightened, and he seemed about ready to cheer. "It's about time!"

Edison had a similar reaction; however, Mia was upset. She crossed her arms over her petite frame, her light blue eyes blazing and pale face reddening. She stared me down intensely. "Why would you do this, Rosemarie? Are you insane? Prince Adrian is the best bachelor you have in your life, and you're just throwing him away because you can't return his feelings? Unbelievable! Are you even thinking this through?" Mia basically yelled at me.

I knew that she meant no harm, but her words angered me. I clenched my fists and told her, "He doesn't have any feelings for me, Mia. I figured it out after all this time. At the party, he was interested in another girl named Sydney Sage. I could tell by their interaction," I spat at her with equal venom. She blinked multiple times, consumed by disbelief. Everyone around us was incredibly silent.

"Really?" Mia squeaked out. Mason just stood there, seeming more understanding.

"Really," I confirmed. After the word was released, the royal family appeared on a balcony in the palace, appearing as majestic as ever. The entire crowd cheered and applauded, completely admiring the British monarchy. King Nathan, Queen Daniella, and Prince Adrian smiled royally at their subjects, waving to everyone and blowing kisses.

Finally, King Nathan spoke. His emerald-green eyes—ones that mirrored Prince Adrian's so much—scanned the crowd of people. "You are gathered here today to find out who my son will choose to wed," he projected. "Once again, I would like to thank all of the maidens who attended my son's party—we very much appreciate it." King Nathan then ushered Prince Adrian to stand in front. "And now, my son will make his announcement."

I had never seen him so nervous, so uncomfortable. His hands fiddled at his sides, he kept licking his lips, and he couldn't concentrate on anything. The crowd watched him with all of their eyes, never breaking their gazes, and I was sure that Prince Adrian had to be sweating. King Nathan and Queen Daniella were behind him, desperately wanting him to go ahead and reveal his choice. They seemed embarrassed.

After what felt like an eternity, Prince Adrian closed his eyes to muster up some strength, then opened them. He stepped forward a little and straightened his posture. This was it. His decision controlled where my destiny lay. It was going to determine everything.

"Oh my god," whispered Lissa, squeezing Christian's arm. "It's about to happen." All of my friends were on their toes, leaning, straining to hear Prince Adrian's voice. My stomach churned as my heart thundered against my ribcage. Was it going to be me? I didn't want him to pick me. Because somewhere, out there, what if another prince was waiting for his special someone? Someone that was me…

In a confident, wholehearted, and fluid tone, Prince Adrian revealed, "Sydney Sage will be my bride." A smile broke out on my face, and I found myself to be the first one clapping. It felt so relieving to hear those words. I felt so happy for him and Sydney.

As I applauded, I heard my friends join me, then the entire crowd fell into a synchronized rhythm of hands clapping together. King Nathan and Queen Daniella were stunned into surprise, yet they recovered and went to Prince Adrian, giving him embraces and kind words. It made my heart flutter seeing him swell with happiness and so ecstatic to have his future with Sydney. I knew he had liked her before, and now his dreams were coming true.

"You were right, Rosemarie," Mia admitted, her light blue eyes still filled with surprise.

I winked. "I told you so." Lissa laughed while Jill smiled and shook her head.

"Do you think their marriage will last?" wondered Edison, appearing a bit doubtful as he watched Sydney come onto the balcony and embrace Prince Adrian, giving him a loving kiss. Mason and Christian spectated as well, looking thoughtful but not as skeptical as Edison.

"For once in his life, Prince Adrian has found a love that's unshakably true," I said.

"So that's a yes?" asked Edison.

"Absolutely."

* * *

When my stepsisters and I arrived home, Father exited his private study and came into the foyer. His reading glasses were hanging from his white shirt, and his chestnut-brown eyes were burning with curiosity. "So, how was the announcement?" he questioned slowly, expecting me to say that Prince Adrian chose me to be his bride.

I smoothly replied, "It was wonderful. The prince is marrying a young woman named Sydney Sage." Father's eyes bugged out of his head. He took turns gazing at me, Lissa, and Jill. I already knew that he was going to call me a liar, so I quickly said, "I'm not lying, Father. It's the complete truth." Lissa and Jill nodded to further convince him.

He stared at us for a few moments before believing me. "I never thought that young man would settle down and commit to one woman, but I supposed I underestimated him," Father admitted, stroking his dark goatee. Rhea then suddenly appeared, descending the wrought, iron staircase in a hurry, eager to hear the news.

She immediately demanded, "What happened?" Her jade-green eyes looked between all of us, desperate to know the information. She was wearing an orange dress, which illuminated her pale skin and displayed some of her cleavage. It looked so bright compared to my turquoise, Lissa's dark green, and Jill's violet dresses.

Lissa answered, "Prince Adrian is wedding a girl named Sydney Sage."

At that, Rhea somehow scoffed and growled simultaneously. Her pale green eyes were electrified as her thin fingers clenched into fists. Father quickly placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to contain her. "How could he pick some bimbo over either of my daughters? He should be ashamed of himself!" she fumed.

Jill averted her gaze, unable to say anything. Lissa swallowed, preventing herself from doing something inappropriate. I, on the other hand, was furious and pointed my finger at Rhea, despite that being disrespectful. "Sydney Sage is not a bimbo. She's a great girl, and Prince Adrian seriously loves her. If anything, that's praiseworthy," I defended in a fiery tone.

Father tightened his grip on my stepmother, his fingers digging into her shoulders. Lissa and Jill stared at me wide-eyed, silently chastising me for making a huge mistake. They actually looked afraid for me. Rhea's bright gaze pierced mine as severely as a knife. "What did you just say to me?" she slowly challenged, barely having self-control.

I wanted to continue opposing her; however, I thought it over and decided to be mature and apologize. "I'm sorry for being disrespectful—it was wrong of me and completely out of line," I surrendered in a soft tone, keeping my gaze down. Luckily, Rhea accepted my apology and left the foyer, strutting down the hallways in a high-maintenance fashion.

Father shook his head. He suddenly seemed tired. "My goodness, that woman can be a handful." We all nodded in agreement. Right before he turned away, a knock came on the door and he went over to open it. My stepsisters and I saw his eyes widen as he saw who it was. "What brings you here, your excellency?"

"I would like to speak to Rosemarie, sir. If that's all right with you," Prince Adrian responded. I walked to the threshold before Father could answer, giving him a smile and ushering him in. Father didn't object and only gave us one look before leaving us alone. My stepsisters followed suit and went upstairs to their bedchambers. I heard a clamber of doors closing.

"Hello, Prince Adrian," I greeted politely. He smiled warmly at me then looked around, his emerald-green eyes absorbing the crystal chandeliers, vintage walls, spacious rooms and hallways, and wrought, iron staircase.

He nodded in approval. "This is a lovely home," he complimented.

"Thank you." I lead him into the kitchen, where the servants were cooking food for dinner. I ordered them away, going to the stove and resuming where they left off. As I fried some meat in a pan, I asked Prince Adrian, "What have you come to talk to me about?" There was silence for a few moments, the only sound audible being the beating of our hearts and the breathing of our bodies.

After a while, he finally said, "I'm ready to officially end our courtship." His voice held a mixture of emotions on top of his British-French accent. I broke my gaze from the stove and looked at him. "I know it's what you want, and I'm sorry for not telling you about my feelings for Sydney. I shouldn't have gotten in a relationship with you," his voice fell regretful.

Once I heard that first sentence, an enormous weight was lifted off my chest. I was finally free from Prince Adrian—I didn't have to deal with him anymore, and he could enjoy his engagement and upcoming marriage to Sydney. However, I needed to know when he had even met her. I didn't want to be assuming that he had cheated on me. "When did you meet Sydney?" I questioned, taking the meat out of the pan and putting it onto a porcelain plate.

He sucked in a giant breath. "Two months ago. I was visiting my aunt in France and ran into Sydney at a tavern. Quite naturally, we got intoxicated and slept together that night." Prince Adrian paused, unsure of whether to continue. My silence was the answer, so he resumed, "She wasn't like any other girl, though. I _wanted_ to know her more. Yet, right when we began courting, my parents had me come back to England so I could find a bride. I was devastated to leave."

"So, you courted me in hopes of forgetting about her, since you believed that you'd never be with her again?" I finished for him.

Prince Adrian widened his emerald-green eyes, shocked. "How did you figure that out so fast?"

"It was pretty obvious, really," I simply replied. "But, I can understand." I abandoned the stove and walked over to him. A smile pulled at my lips. "I'm just glad that you're happy. I hope you and Sydney have a wonderful marriage filled with never-ending happiness," I wished sincerely, wrapping my arms around him in an embrace.

He softly returned the gesture, placing one last kiss to my head. "You're absolutely amazing, you know that? I hope you find someone special, too, and are granted the best in life," Prince Adrian wholeheartedly wished back. It made my heart swell knowing that he and I were on good terms, and that we got a friendship out of a failed relationship.

* * *

 **November 29** **th** **, 1685**

 **A lot of lovely events occurred today. Prince Adrian decided to wed Sydney Sage, who happened to be the love of his life. I cannot say enough how happy I am for them. They deserve each other and all good things that the world has to offer.**

 **Not to mention, my courtship with him is over. He was a wonderful person and treated me like a queen. However, it didn't work out for us...but at least something positive came out of it instead of something negative.**

 **The only special occasion left on my agenda is Cesarevich Dimitri's annual ball in Russia. At dinner, a messenger knocked on our door and gave us an invitation to the event. Father has decided that we'll all be going to Russia very soon to attend the ball, and I'm just bubbling with excitement.**

 **I'm finally going to meet Cesarevich Dimitri! I've heard so much about him and his family over the years, yet I can't wait to meet him in the flesh. I wonder if he'll give me a chance. I wonder if he's handsome and nice and romantic. Prince Adrian was very possessive in our relationship, so maybe he was afraid of the competition. Maybe Cesarevich Dimitri could've taken an interest in me…**

 **Oh well, I suppose I'll find out once I get to Russia—hopefully I can do all the things I did in my courtship with Prince Adrian with Cesarevich Dimitri instead and have it be successful. Have it turn into an engagement, a marriage, and dual reign over Russia…It already sounds lovely!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

I closed my trusty journal and hid it away, along with the gold key. I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, falling into a slumber full of promising dreams, a smile forming on my face.

It stayed there for the remainder of the night.

* * *

 **Starting from the next chapter, Dimitri will be around and it's going to be Romitri. Rose and Adrian have decided to call it quits and realized it wasn't going to work, just like in the novels. I hope you all liked this chapter!**

 **Don't forget to review, my current readers!:)**

 **New readers, please follow or favorite if you like the story. Thanks!:)**

 **Until next time...**


	11. Chapter 11: A Whole New World

**Thanks for the follows, favs, and reviews!:) Here's an introduction to Russia and what lies ahead in the future...With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **Part Two**

 **RPOV**

The sky was as gray as a murky lake—clouded and depressingly dull. Rich, fresh dew permeated the morning air and surrounding greenery. It smelled of nature, and it felt calming to be outside in the damp, early coolness without the golden sun shining its warm, radiant beams of light.

I wore a thick, dark gown with long sleeves and a comfortable petticoat. My luscious, wavy hair sat in a neat bun, and a feathered hat rested atop my head. My feet were covered in heeled, black boots while my hands hid inside a pair of matching gloves. I had decided to not wear any adornments today, for there was going to be a lot of traveling. When people traveled, there were thieves ready to snatch.

"Rose, how did you get dressed and ready so quickly? It took me about three hours preparing for this journey," Lissa exclaimed, exiting the manor and walking over to me. She was dressed in a warm yet more vibrant gown that illuminated her pale skin. Her platinum-blond hair was half loose, and she was adorned with lots of jewelry.

My eyes rolled. "Oh, Lissa. You're acting as if we're going to the other side of the world."

"We are going to the other side of the world!" she said, growing flustered. Lissa gestured to all of her expensive, leather luggage with gloved hands. "Why do you think I brought all of this stuff, Rose? We're traveling to Russia for Cesarevich Dimitri Belikov's ball, remember?" For some reason, hearing his name made my heart accelerate. Was I excited, maybe a little nervous?

When I had met and courted Prince Adrian Ivashkov, I had felt that way also. Seeing and hearing about him had made my heart flutter and my stomach flip. I was always so anxious and excited because I had been consumed by the idea of a prince wanting me when there were actual princesses around.

However, I had realized that it wasn't what I thought. Prince Adrian had been obsessive and possessive—suffocating. I had discovered that it was because he wanted to accept the reality of not seeing his love again; however, he had a chance to reconnect with her at his party, and now he was going to marry Sydney Sage.

Hopefully, my experience with Cesarevich Dimitri would be different. Hopefully, something can blossom between us and last for lifetimes…

Ignoring those tortuous thoughts, I grabbed my stepsister's luggage and loaded them into the carriage that was waiting for us. The coachmen bid a greeting and helped me before I went back to Lissa. I began searching our property, looking for any familiar faces. "Where's everyone else? We don't want to fall behind schedule," I wondered.

"The last time I checked, Jill and your father are almost ready for departure. My mother's still getting all of her things packed, and she's planning on eating a full breakfast before we leave," Lissa answered, her sweet voice falling annoyed as she mentioned Rhea. I couldn't believe that my stepmother was really going to eat a full meal before we left in the carriage, especially after her ridiculous packing. The pathways were mostly of cobblestone, which never allowed a smooth ride.

Not to mention, we had to cross the treacherous English Channel to get to the European mainland. If Rhea had seasickness, the ride was going to be absolute hell.

I audibly groaned just as Jill came out of the manor. She was clad in a magenta dress, which contrasted with my charcoal-gray and Lissa's light red gown. Her jade-green eyes watched me in curious confusion as she walked to me and Lissa, setting down her suitcases once she reached us. "What's the matter?" she concernedly questioned. She placed a light hand on my arm. "Is everything all right?" Lissa nodded before I could respond, and Jill just fell confused, her light brown brows furrowing. "Then what's the issue? I don't understand," she asked next.

"Rose isn't happy that Mother is taking so long to pack and wants to eat a full meal before we leave for Russia," Lissa explained.

Jill's eyes widened and her face paled. I supposed she felt the same way I did. "Mother should _not_ be eating anything filling. She has major seasickness. And she knows this, so I don't understand why she wants to have a large breakfast when we must eventually transport by ship," she said, dumbfounded.

Lissa jerked a slender finger at the door. "Go tell her," she ordered. "Hurry! There's no way I'm allowing us to have problems on this long journey. It's not happening." Jill obeyed and rushed inside, disappearing behind the oak door. After a few minutes, she came back out. Lissa demanded, "What did she say?"

"She's not going to eat a lot, but she's still going to consume something. She doesn't want to fall lightheaded," Jill replied, waiting for her sister to show an unhappy expression, which she did. I placed a hand on Lissa's shoulder to calm her down, and after a few moments, she pacified and smiled at me in gratitude. I returned the gesture.

Suddenly, the front entrance opened to reveal Father and Rhea. He carried all of their luggage singlehandedly, his chestnut-brown eyes and tanned body filled with strain. Meanwhile, my stepmother sauntered ahead as if she were extremely important. Her head was held in a haughty fashion, and her emerald-green gown trudged behind her like a train. A huge, floppy hat rested upon her head, and outlandish jewelry hung from her body. Rhea clapped her hands, her impatience stirring. "Let's be on our way. We don't have time for lollygagging."

With suppressed irritation, my stepsisters and I obeyed, climbing into the carriage and settling on the velvet seats. Father stored his and Rhea's luggage in the compartment, then climbed inside to sit opposite us. Once my stepmother got in, the wheels started rolling.

* * *

White waves crashed against the wooden ship. Its saltiness tainted the misty, cold atmosphere, and I wrapped a cloak around myself as my teeth chattered. A strong wind blew against the sails, chilling my skin and attempting to have my precious hat fly away. I could barely see ahead in this weather, yet somehow, the captain had no trouble.

Lissa ran up to me, her small body pressing into mine for warmth. She had to project her voice over the roaring waves. "It's so rough out here," she basically yelled. "I hope we reach the mainland soon. I'm getting a headache." I nodded in agreement. It was so insane being out here on deck; however, I couldn't be cramped down below. It was damp and musty and disgusting.

"Me too," I yelled back. "Is your mother doing okay?" The ship dipped and collided with a giant wave, causing a spray of salt water to hit us in the face. I quickly wiped away the wetness and nearly gagged on the taste.

Lissa shook her head, strands of pale blond hair sticking to her neck and face. "No. She's vomiting tremendously below deck. Your father and Jill are with her, and they gave her a bucket. Once it's full, though, she'll probably come on deck and vomit overboard," she replied, clutching my arm and shutting her jade-green eyes to prevent the ocean water from getting inside them.

This voyage through the English Channel was downright horrible, and I hope I'll never have to go across it again.

I stayed at the edge of the ship, gripping the side as Lissa gripped me. Rhea ended up coming on deck and nearly threw herself off the boat as she vomited her poor soul out. When the voyage got softer and more tolerable, she stumbled away with a green face, wet clothes, and ruined hair. Rhea looked so wretched…I actually wished she'd get better soon.

It had to have been hours, or maybe even a day, before we reached the mainland. The ship docked at a harbor, and my family and I raced off with our luggage. I almost had the absurd urge to drop to the ground and start kissing the land.

The sky had transformed to midnight-blue and was littered with a billion stars that appeared to be countless eyes watching us from above. We were all exhausted and achy, so we decided to hitch a carriage to a French inn and lodge for a couple of days to regain energy and strength. I shared a room with Lissa and Jill, and they immediately went to bed without even uttering a goodnight while I sat on mine and began writing in my personal journal.

I tucked a strand of dark hair behind my ear. A yawn ripped through me, so I decided to keep my entry short.

My quill drew these inky words:

 **November 30** **th** **, 1685**

 **The traveling has been hellish over sea, and we are rejuvenating at a lovely inn near Paris, France. I cannot wait to get back on the road and come closer to Russia, to Cesarevich Dimitri. May the journey no longer be perilous, and may it be of complete worth.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

* * *

We took different carriages further across Europe until we finally Russia. Since winter was approaching, the weather was incredibly cold and the nights became shorter. Gazing out the window, I stared in awe as I witnessed the glorious city of Moscow. Everything about it remained the same, but I was still captivated by the beautiful architecture.

The carriage rode on the smooth, paved roads. I spectated tall, colorfully patterned buildings that seemed to touch the semi-cloudy sky. Saint Basil's Cathedral loomed before us, reminding me of Fairston Academy's layout, and I gasped at the magnificence of Eastern Orthodoxy. Some distance away was the Russian palace, and I nearly erupted with excitement as I thought of the Belikov family.

"Isn't it just wonderful?" I gushed, barely able to contain myself.

Lissa and Jill giggled at me, their jade-green eyes sparkling. "Of course, Rose. It's gorgeous," they replied in definite agreement. Father happily smiled, love radiating in his chestnut-brown eyes as Rhea frowned and glared, yet I didn't allow her to destroy my mood. After some time, we arrived at an ornate lodge that was close to the royal palace.

The helpful coachmen unloaded our luggage and bid us goodbye before riding off. We entered the lavish building, which was decorated with crystal chandeliers, portraits of Russian monarchs, delicate furniture, and patterned walls. Father checked us in as we gazed around in appreciation, approving what we saw.

"This is quite lovely," Rhea commented, running her gloved hand over a glass sculpture and admiring the extravagant paintings, her pale green eyes impressed. My stepsisters and I nodded, walking on the hardwood floors in amazement, our heels clicking and echoing off the walls.

Father got us settled after receiving the keys. The rooms were spacious and adorned with furniture made of a high-quality, polished wood. The walls appeared dark and covered in wonderful paintings and a couple portraits of past Russian rulers. Large, long windows were draped in velvet curtains while the beds had neutral colored sheets of cotton. The bathrooms sparkled with precisely cleaned granite and common tiles. The tub was porcelain and rounded, having little, bulbous legs. A wide, glass mirror hung over the sink.

I hadn't noticed Lissa standing beside me until she spoke. "This place is absolutely amazing, Rose!" She did a little twirl, her light red gown spinning around her legs. "I can't believe we're finally in Russia! We're going to meet Cesarevich Dimitri and go to his winter ball!" She grabbed my hands and we began dancing in a circle like little girls playing outside on a summer's day. I was so excited to be here—I didn't think I had ever been this happy.

"I know! I can't wait either. Oh my goodness, Lissa, what's going to happen?" I asked aloud, worry and fear filling my body, making me let go of her soft hands. My heart accelerated slightly. "What if Cesarevich Dimitri doesn't want to be with me after he has his ball? What if I end up coming all the way here for nothing?" I knew I shouldn't be panicking and caring so much, but I wanted this more than anything, and I yearned to have it become a reality.

Lissa sighed, understanding surfacing in her jade-green eyes. "Rose, I know you're a little scared and worried, but you can't let this get the best of you. I'll agree that it would be beyond great if it happens, however it's not that important. There are plenty of other chances to meet a man who treats you and loves you like a princess," she reasoned, her blond brow knowingly arched.

My body sagged in defeat. I just had to accept the truth of it. I lightly nodded. "You're right. I need to stop being so concerned about this—it won't be the end of humanity if it doesn't go my way." With renewed happiness, I decided to suggest, "Why don't we get some fresh air and explore Russia?"

She contemplated for a few moments then declined. "You go ahead. I'm going to unwind and write a letter to Christian," Lissa said, falling a little guilty at admitting that she didn't want to go with me. I completely understood, though. She hadn't gotten an opportunity to say goodbye to him before we left, and they were courting, so she wanted to continue communicating. Likewise, I hadn't been able to say goodbye to Mason, Edison, and Mia…Oh well. Maybe I could write letters to the guys, and hopefully Mia was coming to Cesarevich Dimitri's ball.

I left the lodge by myself after informing Father of my plans. The weather was still cold—colder than England—and I walked throughout Moscow, staring at the marvelous architecture, wrapping my black cloak tighter around my body. As I went to the outskirts of the outstanding city, I noticed a lot of peasants. Their bodies were almost emaciated, and their eyes looked so hopeless and fairly angry. It was horrifying and sad watching them go about trying to find food and clothes and medicine for their families.

Was the Russian monarchy cruel to their people? Were the Belikovs not what they seemed?

Not wanting to ponder the issue—I feared that it'd ruin my perception of Cesarevich Dimitri—I erased the thoughts from my mind and began searching for a bakery, in the hopes of getting some sweet treats for my family. I only had British money with me, yet hopefully, I could find a way to purchase them.

As I walked around, I was probably not aware of my surroundings, for I bumped into a nicely chiseled frame and staggered back from the force. A strong, masculine hand shot out and gripped my arm to steady me, bringing me closer to their body. I looked up to find an exceedingly tall man with chocolate-brown eyes that burned with apology. "Я прошу прощения, Мисс. Я не вижу тебя," he said in a thick, hypnotic Russian accent. I then realized that he was also speaking the language.

I blinked several times, feeling extremely confused. "What did you say?"

Realization dawned on the man's features, and he cleared his throat, a slight smile pulling at his full, rosy lips. "You must be from England, am I correct?" I nodded. "I said, 'I'm sorry, miss. I didn't see you there,'" he explained in fluent English, however his Russian accent still laced his words. I nodded once I heard him, a small blush tainting my cheeks. This was a little embarrassing, but I wanted to talk to him some more. He seemed inviting in a mysterious way.

I held out my gloved hand. "I'm Rosemarie Mazur," I greeted kindly, allowing a smile to brighten my face.

The man took out his hand to grasp mine, placing a light kiss to the glove. Even though it covered my skin, I felt an electrical sensation travel throughout my body and set it aflame. "I'm Dimitri Belikov. It's a pleasure to meet you, Rosemarie," he greeted back, yet he watched me as if he expected me to realize something, his dark gaze intense.

"I'd prefer it if you called me Rose," I corrected. My eyes then widened after a few moments, and I gaped at the man before me, his words finally registering in my head. I pointed a trembling finger at him. "Did you say _Dimitri_ ," I squeaked. He nodded. I then gasped and began jumping and squealing like an imbecile, which caused people to spectate and Dimitri to drag me away from the scene. He had my mouth covered and pulled me into a dark alley.

When he removed his hand, he hissed, "What's the matter with you? Why'd you have to draw so much attention?" His cold tone caught me off guard, yet I didn't allow it to dampen my giddy mood.

"You're Cesarevich Dimitri," I whispered. I couldn't believe it! This was too good to be true. "What the hell were you doing walking around in the city, anyway?" I then demanded, confused and curious. "Why were you disguised under the hood? As a matter of fact, you still have it on." Despite his tall height, I took off his cloak hood and gasped at his handsomeness.

Aside from the chocolate-brown, intense eyes, Cesarevich Dimitri had olive-toned skin, a narrow nose, defined cheekbones, and a strong jawline. His hair was shoulder-length and pulled into a short ponytail that was at the nape of his neck, and a few strands were loose and framed his face. From what I could tell, his body seemed lean and intact with chiseled muscle underneath his cloak. I wondered how it felt under my fingertips…

He didn't answer—he only stared at me as if I was stupid. I waited impatiently, and when he continued being stubborn, I crossed my arms over my chest. Since Cesarevich Dimitri was royal, I was sure to be respectful. "Why can't you answer me, your excellency? I apologize for being so rude earlier, but I would really appreciate it if you were able to tell me," I pleaded softly, unable to prevent myself from moving closer to him.

Cesarevich Dimitri sighed and took a deep breath. "I was doing a patrol of the city," he confessed. "The percentage of Russian peasants has increased over the years, and I've taken it upon myself to know how terrible it is becoming. I don't tell anyone in the palace about it, so I masquerade as a commoner every time I come. I can only patrol Moscow alone—I patrol the other areas with guards and intellectuals." His voice sounded pained, like he hated the harsh reality of this truth. He also seemed angry, as if it was deeply engraved and brewing inside him.

I couldn't help but asking, "Why are there so many starving peasants? What happened? Is it because of the weather?" I had this sudden, profound urge to help the Russian people and make their lives better and more comfortable. No one deserved to be living in a constant state of not being able to see the next day or not being able to be happy with those they cared about.

Cesarevich Dimitri nodded. "The weather is partially true, however I cannot tell you the other reasons. That is immensely private," he replied in a standoffish, hard voice. It made me step back, but it didn't make me hate him. I could tell that there was something bothering him, something so consuming that Cesarevich Dimitri ached to be freed of it—he seemed trapped, haunted. I wanted to talk to him about it, yet pushing the topic wouldn't progress anything.

I decided to say, "I was looking for a bakery, but since I ran into you, I was wondering if you could perhaps direct me to one and loan me some money." He arched a dark brow, and I immediately added, "I know it's wrong of me to demand a royal to give me money; however, I only have British currency, and I'd really like to buy my family some treats." Now, I wanted to slap myself for babbling. I sounded like an idiot in front of this handsome prince and was only humiliating myself.

Surprisingly, Cesarevich Dimitri answered in his delightful, Russian accent, "Of course, Rose. I'd be happy to take you, and I can just pay for you. It's no trouble." I nodded and we got out of the dark alley, walking to a bakery he thought would suffice. He asked me if I was coming to his winter ball, and I said yes. I talked about my family, and he replied that he couldn't wait to meet them.

Conversing with him felt so natural and comfortable—I took this as a good sign. However, he was probably only being polite. I couldn't be a naïve, adolescent girl who believed she could easily enrapture a prince.

After we got the treats, Cesarevich Dimitri walked me back to the lodge. He kissed my gloved hand again, his chocolate-brown eyes twinkling as he gazed at me. My breath caught in my throat as that electrical current washed over my body, yet I managed to say, "Thank you so much for all that you've done for me today. And once again, I am so sorry for behaving a bit disrespectfully at some points. It was highly inappropriate—"

"Rose," he interrupted, "I had a wonderful time. It was great meeting you, and I hope we can see each other again very soon. Enjoy your stay in Russia." Cesarevich Dimitri smiled slightly and bowed, giving me one last look before walking away. I watched him put on the cloak hood and disappear behind its mask as he headed back to the royal palace.

My heart fluttered as I went to my room, the paper bag of pastries gripped loosely in my hand. I couldn't think about anything except for Cesarevich Dimitri…Lissa looked up when I entered, her jade-green eyes quickly settling on the food. "What did you get, Rose?" she wondered, getting off the couch to inspect the treats.

I didn't answer.

Lissa then snapped her fingers, pulling me out of my reverie. "Rose! What happened to you out there? You have this dreamy look on your face, and you're acting as if you saw the most amazing man in the entire world," she exclaimed, not realizing how accurate her words were. She then gasped and bounced once it dawned on her. "You met Cesarevich Dimitri, didn't you? Didn't you?"

I nodded.

My stepsister screamed so loudly, I almost fell to the floor. Father, Rhea, and Jill rushed to Lissa in a fluid panic, concern etched onto their faces, their hands grabbing at her to gain her attention. "What's wrong, Vasilisa?" Rhea questioned, her pale green eyes glassy.

After regaining some composure, Lissa said, "Rose met Cesarevich Dimitri." She seemed about ready to faint. All of their eyes turned to me, demanding to have her words confirmed.

I nodded in the slightest.

Father and Jill erupted into gleeful cheer, hugging and asking me how it went and what it was like. Rhea, on the other hand, glared viciously. She was probably hoping for her daughters to have a chance, but now it was probably ruined, like with what had happened with Prince Adrian.

I couldn't wait to see how this would all turn out. Since Cesarevich Dimitri wanted to see me again, I hoped we could blossom a pure, true relationship. I hoped he'd want to marry me and make me his princess. I hoped, for once in my life, I could finally have a happily ever after.

* * *

 **Looks like things are going well...;)**

 **Don't forget to review, my readers!**

 **New readers, please follow or fav if you like the story! Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12: Not All Changes Are Bad

**It took me a while getting what I wanted for this chapter, especially on top of school. But I finally got it, and I hope you all like it. It starts with Dimitri's POV. Enjoy reading!:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **DPOV**

As I walked in the Siberian cold, the sky was transforming from a collage of orange, yellow, and pink to an endless ocean of blue and violet. My eyes squinted as a powerful wind blew and whipped back some stray stands of my hair. My dark, long coat billowed around me as the freezing temperature chilled some of my exposed skin and caused me to shiver. Somehow, through these unfavorable weather conditions, my body retained some warmth at the mere thought of Rose.

When I had ran into her in the city of Moscow, I found her to be quite an interesting, young woman. Not only was she exotically beautiful, but she'd had a fierce and caring essence about her that made her resemble light. One couldn't simply glimpse at her and walk away—once you noticed her, your eyes followed and reveled at how captivating she was, how brightly she burned. Yet, there was also something about Rose that seemed dimmer...sadder...

What was her history? What had happened in her life?

She was probably thinking the same thing about me, for I remembered how desperately she had wanted to know why I was personally and routinely tracking Russia's peasant population. She had realized how deeply it meant to me, which was scary since no one had succeeded at knowing a lot about me after meeting me for the first time. I would've liked to tell her, yet that had to happen at a later time—we hardly knew each other.

I could admit, though, that I really wanted to see her again. And, before my family's annual ball.

After trudging through the cold for a few miles, I finally arrived at the royal palace. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, shimmering as I entered through the front. I removed my coat and shook it off, causing white frost to litter the marble floors. Upon seeing this, a dainty maid rushed over.

"Don't worry, your majesty. I'll take care of everything," she said in Russian. She quickly fixed my disheveled appearance before grabbing my things with her small, pale hands. Her slight form retreated, her blue and white uniform disappearing from sight once she turned a sharp corner.

I decided to head to the kitchen for a swift snack. The chefs were surrounded by black pans and pots, sharp utensils, raw food, and polished granite and tiles and wood. Even though they were busy, they noticed me and immediately prepared some borscht with black bread. I thanked them and headed to my private study, ascending the winding, gold staircase.

Once I entered, I closed the mahogany door and sat at the nearly black, ebony desk, eating my food in silence. After a while, I began growing uncomfortable as I remembered that I was in my father's old room, and his portrait remained on the velvet wall.

Unconsciously, I turned around and met eyes with the picture. My body instinctively tensed as I observed my father's incredibly dark gaze, sharp and defined features, and slightly pale skin. He wore a bejeweled crown—it was all accompanied by a soft, fluffy cloak, expensive rings, and an impeccable royal suit decorated with colorful patterns. It pained me to look at him, so after a few seconds, I turned away and stared at my half-eaten plate.

My appetite was gone.

This dark cloud of emotion hung over me for the longest time, until I thought about Rose again. I placed my head in my hands and closed my eyes. Why did she affect me so much? Why couldn't my mind empty itself of her? Instantly, I visualized her in a black dress and cloak that perfectly flattered her slender, curvy figure. I visualized her tanned skin, chestnut-brown eyes, and gorgeous, wavy, dark brown hair…

"Dimka?" I jerked my head up and saw my mother, Czarina Olena Belikova, standing with her body partially in my private study. Her gold and black gown was half displayed as she held the mahogany door open just enough. Her chocolate-brown eyes—ones I'd inherited—watched me with concern. "You've been in here for a long time. Are you all right?" she questioned in Russian.

Unable to control myself, I banged my fists on the desk as that last sentence triggered previous thoughts of my father. My mother flinched. "What do you think, мать (mother)? I'm not all right. It'll never be all right," I spat, growing angry.

She lowered her gaze, staring at the floor. "I don't know what you mean," my mother muttered so quietly that I almost didn't hear.

"You know exactly what I mean," I said in a raised voice, pointing at my father's portrait. She didn't follow my finger—she didn't have to because she already knew. "I hate that this used to be his private study. I hate that you're keeping his portraits and possessions in here when I clearly told you to get rid of them. The whole palace has been cleansed of him except for this very room. Why, мать? Why?" I fired out in Russian. I could barely breathe once I was finished. My body quaked with anger and resentment.

My mother was silent for several moments. She was a statue. After a while, she finally sighed and spoke. "It's getting late, Dimka. You should get some rest," was all she said. My mother softly closed the door, and I was left alone in internal negativity. I wanted to throw something, break something even, but I refrained and thought of Rose instead to calm me down.

While I envisioned her, I rummaged through the desk drawers until I found a piece of paper and a quill. Sure, it was far into the night, but I had to do this before I could relax and let myself fall asleep.

As soon as I gathered my thoughts, I wrote.

* * *

 **RPOV**

I awakened to golden beams of sunlight and a fairly warm temperature. Stretching and yawning, I climbed out of the comfortable, lodge bed and tiptoed out of the room I shared with Lissa and Jill, careful not to disturb them. They seemed like pale, light-haired angels as they softly snoozed, tangled in the white sheets. I then smiled to myself at their peaceful beauty, admiring how innocent and young they appeared.

As I was about to enter the small kitchen, a knock sounded on the door, and I quickly put on my mother's old, royal-purple robe over my thin, white nightgown. I rushed to the door and opened it, widening my eyes in surprise and confusion as a royal messenger stood before me. This situation reminded me of when Prince Adrian's awkward messenger had delivered me a gift when we were still courting.

However, this one was tall, stocky, and quite serious. He bowed in respect before giving me a clean, white envelope enclosed with a red seal. "Cesarevich Dimitri wishes for Miss Rosemarie Mazur to receive this. It shall only be opened by her," he informed in fluent English, his thick Russian accent nearly garbling his words. I guessed that Cesarevich Dimitri had told him to speak to me in English since I couldn't understand Russian.

I offered a small smile. "Tell him I said thank you, kind sir."

The royal messenger shook his head, causing his voluminous hat to bounce. "That won't be necessary." With that, he turned and walked down the hallway, leaving me even more curious and confused. I quickly closed the door and ran over to one of the velvet couches, ripping open the envelope to pull out what was inside.

It was a note.

I unfolded the paper and began reading.

 **Dear Rose,**

 **As I told you yesterday, I had a wonderful time with you and enjoyed your company. Today is a new day, and while I should not be doing this before my family's annual ball, I would like for you to meet me by your lodge at ten o'clock. I want to show you Siberia and have us do something you have never done before.**

 **From,**

 **Cesarevich Dimitri Belikov**

My mind was spinning as I read the note over and over again. I couldn't believe that he wanted to spend the day with me so soon after our first encounter. Excitement began filling me, and I found myself bouncing on the couch in absolute joy. This was going to be an amazing day—I could sense it!

With great speed, I checked a grandfather clock and saw that it was a quarter past nine. I then stuffed the note into its envelope and quickly hid it under the large pillow of my bed, still careful not to wake my stepsisters. I then ran into the bathroom and closed the door, preparing a bath and stripping off my nightclothes. The scented, sudsy water felt calming and warm as I washed my body and hair. After a few minutes, I dried off and started dressing.

I put on insulated clothing, since Cesarevich Dimitri was planning on showing me Siberia. Instead of a long, layered dress, I decided to wear fitting, black pants with a matching long-sleeved, cotton shirt and coat. I slipped my feet into heeled, dark boots and placed my wet, wavy tresses into a simple, neat bun. As I stared at my plain reflection for several moments, I decided to add a silver pendant with accompanying earrings. I lightly dabbed some gloss onto my lips.

"Where are you going?" Lissa wondered out of nowhere, audibly yawning and rubbing at her groggy eyes.

I jumped, pressing a hand to my chest. "What the hell! You scared me."

She grew more awake, her jade-green eyes observing my appearance. I couldn't help but notice how her platinum-blond hair was very tangled, and her skinny frame seemed willowy under her dark nightgown. "Answer my question, Rose. Where in the world are you going?" Lissa demanded, utterly serious.

I sighed and replied, "I'm going to spend the day with Cesarevich Dimitri. He's showing me Siberia." As soon as I finished that sentence, she squealed and attacked me with an unexpectedly powerful embrace, having us jump up and down like giddy fools.

"Oh my goodness, this is so wonderful! I guarantee you that he wants to be with you," Lissa said, pulling back so she could look me in the eye. I completely broke free, creating more distance as I walked to the other side of the bathroom. She immediately frowned. "Why'd you do that, Rose? This isn't going to mirror your previous courtship with Prince Adrian."

I threw up my hands. "What if it does, Lissa? What if he's trying to forget about some woman that he loves and is only using me to move forward in his life?" I countered, beginning to bubble with insecurity and fear. I didn't want someone to pretend to love me, especially another prince. I'd probably deflate if that happened.

My stepsister came over to wrap her arms around me . "Cesarevich Dimitri isn't like Prince Adrian, Rose. He's more mature and knows what he wants. You told me that last night. Now, I understand your anxiety, but you need to lighten up and be confident about this. Things will turn out fine," she reassured in a soft, uplifting voice.

Positivity consumed me, and I smiled as I felt myself feeling better. "You're right. I need to stop worrying and have faith in this," I agreed. I then gave her a quick embrace and said, "I really have to go—I'm meeting him at ten." Lissa nodded and returned the gesture, watching me as I exited the bathroom and eventually the lodge room.

I ventured down to the lobby and ate a complimentary, Russian breakfast before going outside. The sky was clear and the sun was out, however the air remained cold and I could witness my condensed breath as I exhaled. I sat on a nearby, wooden bench and patiently waited for the last fifteen minutes before Cesarevich Dimitri arrived.

He was on horseback, and a beautiful, well cared stallion trailed behind him with a rope tied around his muzzle. He wore outdoor attire, which consisted of a gray, button down shirt; black trousers and boots; a gray, thick jacket; and a white scarf and gloves. His chocolate-brown eyes sparkled as he observed my appearance. "You look nice, Rose," he complimented. "Are you ready?"

I eagerly nodded. "Of course." I mounted the riderless stallion and disconnected the rope. Cesarevich Dimitri and I rode out of the city of Moscow side by side, eventually entering the Siberian wilderness. There was such abundant wildlife—deer grazed on the green vegetation while predators were out of sight. The terrain was hilly, mountainous, and trees loomed above us with thick trunks, branches, and multiple leaves.

"Do you like it?" Cesarevich Dimitri asked, guiding us to an area guarded by trees. Shade was plentiful, and we dismounted our horses, tying them to nearby trunks. I smoothed my clothes, looking up and around me. Nature was so refreshingly beautiful.

"Yes. It's lovely," I gushed dreamily. He warmly smiled, which made my heart accelerate and my breaths hasty. He didn't look like he did that often, and it caused me to feel special inside since I made him happy. I then asked, "So, what are we doing out here?"

Cesarevich Dimitri wordlessly went to a couple of scabbards that were attached to his horse. He gripped what looked like hilts and pulled out two stainless, sharp, steel swords. My eyes widened as I stared at the weapons in his hands. What on earth was he planning on doing with them? He noticed my expression and explained, "We came here so I could teach you how to fight, Rose."

All I could say was, "Only men are allowed to engage in violence. Women aren't supposed to learn how to handle weapons." Cesarevich Dimitri frowned at hearing those words, and it surprised me because no man was ever unhappy about females not being able to fight. I supposed he really was different.

He came up to me, towering like a pillar. His dark gaze penetrated mine. "I don't care what society thinks. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself and that's final. Understand?" I vigorously nodded, not wanting to anger him. "Good. I'll only be helping you with swords today. We'll save firearms and ranged weapons for later times," Cesarevich Dimitri informed.

 _He wanted to practice in the future…?_

"The first thing you must know when dealing with a weapon is to always be safe. Make sure to wear the proper clothing and be careful when putting the weapon to use," he instructed.

I nodded in understanding.

Cesarevich Dimitri handed me the second sword, and its heavy weight shocked me. I bent over and nearly dropped it. His free hand shot out and wrapped around my waist, causing an electrical current to shoot through my body. He held me upright. "Are you okay, Rose? Did you hurt anything?" he asked, his handsome face frozen with worry.

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Sorry for scaring you," I meekly apologized.

He softly smiled at me. "Don't feel bad. It's all right." Cesarevich Dimitri then cleared his throat and continued. "The sword must be treated as an extension of the arm." He held up his own; lean muscles tensed and flexed. "You need to move it as if it's a part of your body. It should be fluid and feel natural." I nodded. He then said, "You try holding it, Rose."

For some strange reason, sweat began building on my forehead and I was constantly licking my lips. Why was I so nervous? I was merely going to hold up a sword. It wasn't like I was about to smite someone. I felt Cesarevich Dimitri's intense gaze, watching and waiting. Taking a deep breath, I held up my sword, the hilt gripped in my palm. I tried to focus the weight as best as I could, but my form was still a bit weak.

Cesarevich Dimitri came closer, his tall and hard body pressing against me. A gulp ripped through my throat. He wrapped his large hand around mine, helping me grip better. "If you need to, you can use two hands instead of one. Your body will be able to support the weight more," he advised. I did as he said and noticed the improvement. I felt so proud of myself.

"I did it! Oh my goodness, it worked!" I exclaimed, unable to contain myself. Cesarevich Dimitri spectated in amusement as I jumped around in happiness and disbelief. After regaining composure, I straightened out my attire and smoothed down my hair. "What's next?" I wondered, now feeling a little embarrassed at what I had just did.

It took a little while for him to answer, for his chocolate-brown eyes were immensely concentrated on me. My skin seemed to be on fire as he stared and stared…Cesarevich Dimitri averted his dark gaze. He refocused and resumed instructing. I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. "I'm going to demonstrate offensive and defensive positions with the sword. Pay close attention and when I tell you to repeat, try to be as accurate as possible," he told me.

With outstanding perfection, Cesarevich Dimitri acted out every move he knew. He was lethal, powerful, precise, and graceful. I observed in sheer awe as he resembled an omnipotent god fighting in a vicious battle. How did he learn all of this and excel? And how was I going to perfectly copy him? The moves seemed quite complicated, but I supposed that once he explained them, they wouldn't be.

"All right, Rose. Your turn," he said, slightly breathing laboriously. Cesarevich Dimitri's forehead was beaded with sweat, and he removed his scarf and gloves and coat, even though it was still cold. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before repeating his movements, thinking of each one prior to me acting it out.

Cesarevich Dimitri scrutinized everything I did, silently criticizing my wrongs and rights, pondering what feedback to provide me with. It made me a little nervous and hesitant, but I continued doing the defensive and offensive moves until they were all finished. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for him to say something, anything. "Well…how was it?" I pressed between pants.

He crossed his sculpted arms over his broad chest. "It wasn't horrible—you actually did fairly well for your first time. However, you had some trouble maintaining balance, protecting vital areas, and putting full, bodily strength into your movements," he evaluated in an emotionless, professional voice. My spirits fell, and Cesarevich Dimitri quickly added, "Don't fret, Rose. You'll improve in time. You have great potential."

I slightly perked up, growing hopeful. "You really think so?"

"I know so." A small smile formed on his full, pink lips, and I felt so worthy and prideful inside—I loved hearing that Cesarevich Dimitri had so much faith in me. I also couldn't believe that I was actually going to learn fighting techniques. Females in this day and age never did anything masculine, yet there were always those rare women who defied society and proved to be capable of whatever a man could do.

Maybe I was now going to be one of them and make a difference...

"We should probably get back to Moscow," I suggested. The temperature had increased, and the sun was high in the sky—a flaming, yellow mass in a sea of blue. Cesarevich Dimitri nodded, and we returned to our horses, untying them from their trees before mounting and urging them to gallop.

Once we got to the lodge, I dismounted my stallion and placed a gentle kiss to his muzzle. He whinnied and sweetly rubbed me. Smiling, I looked up at Cesarevich Dimitri and said, "Thank you so much for today. It was fun, and I can't wait for you to teach me more things about self-defense and combat." Impulsively, I came forward and embraced him. My head rested on his chest, and I could hear his precious heartbeat. He was surprised and tense at first, but he eventually returned the gesture.

"You're welcome, Rose," he softly replied. We pulled away after a while and told each other that we'd meet again soon. I sighed as I watched him ride away to the royal palace, wishing that we were courting or married so I didn't have to wait to see him another day…

Hopefully, all of that would change.

* * *

 **Looks like Dimitri has a fairly dark past...**

 **Classic Rose is going to learn how to fight and defy all odds. Yay!**

 **Don't forget to review, my readers.**

 **New readers, please follow or fav if you like the story. Thanks!**


	13. Chapter 13: When Broken Things Mend

**Just a heads up: this chapter contains a couple flashbacks pertaining to Rose and Dimitri. It just has a little background information for their characters. Sorry this update took a little longer than usual, but I was consumed with school and got sick at the end of the week. Anyway, I'm doing better now, so let's just get on with the story. Enjoy reading! :)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

"How was the outing?" Lissa wondered, coming over to stand beside me. She wore a flowing, pale blue gown that emphasized her porcelain skin and had long, lacy sleeves. Her slender waist was smaller due to a corset, and white gloves covered her delicate hands. Straight, platinum-blond hair fell down her back like a waterfall. As always, Lissa was angelically beautiful.

Yet, it countered her expectant stare, her desire to know my answer. My heart was palpitating underneath my ribcage—its beat filled my ears as sweat gathered on my forehead and in my shirt. How could I possibly tell her that Cesarevich Dimitri taught me swordsmanship? She wouldn't approve. It was against everything we were taught...

"Rose." I looked up from my hands, meeting Lissa's curious and concerned jade-green gaze. "What's the matter? Why can't you just answer my question?" A soft laugh escaped her, but it quickly ceased, for she fell serious. Lissa drew closer to me. Her voice was barely a whisper. "You didn't do anything inappropriate with Cesarevich Dimitri, did you?"

I shook my head vigorously, fighting a blush. "Absolutely not. We hardly know each other. Why on earth would I do such a thing? How could you think that?" I demanded, directing the attention on her. I couldn't believe those thoughts would come to her mind. It was insane…Though, I would admit that being intimate with Cesarevich Dimitri did sound lovely…

Lissa cocked her head back and held up her hands, growing defensive. "You're the one who's behaving all secretive," she argued. "This has nothing to do with me." She then placed her hands on her cutely curved hips, arching a blond brow in no-nonsense. "Now, enough of this. Stop avoiding the question and just give me my answer," Lissa pressed.

Before I fully revealed, I gazed at her intensely and said, "Promise me that you'll just listen and remain under control." She gave me a confused look then rolled her eyes and nodded, growing impatient.

"I understand. Get on with it, Rose!"

Taking a deep, calming breath, I closed my eyes and counted in my head. _One…two…three…_ I opened them and slowly confessed, "Cesarevich Dimitri instructed me on sword fighting." For several moments, Lissa stood like a statue—expressionless, frozen, and almost lifeless. Then suddenly, a scream erupted from her mouth. A scream so earth-shattering that it nearly made my ears bleed and broke every glass object in the lodge room.

Quite naturally, Father, Rhea, and Jill ran over to us, complete worry filling their features. Rhea and Jill attended to Lissa by grabbing her arms and shushing her while Father went to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "What the hell is going on here?" he boomed, his chestnut-brown eyes glancing between me and Lissa.

I refused to speak out of fear of a similar reaction, and once Lissa calmed down, she was extremely pale and looked about ready to faint. Rhea and Jill tightened their grips on her as she pointed a trembling finger at me. "Rose went out with Cesarevich Dimitri, and he taught her how to fight with a sword," she explained in a quivering voice, as if she was scared, horrified.

As soon as those words were released, Rhea immediately let go of her daughter, her pale green eyes shocked and appalled. She pressed a hand right over her cleavage, as if to protect her heart. "A woman or girl engaging in violence is downright unacceptable and wrong. That is strictly for men and boys. I can't believe Cesarevich Dimitri initiated this…he ought to be ashamed of himself. He knows society's rules."

My fists clenched in fury. How could she speak down upon the Russia's crown prince, and how could she think that females fighting was so wrong? That was extremely unfair, and I felt that something ought to be changed for once.

On the other hand, Father uttered something completely different. I was immensely surprised. "You left the lodge without asking either of us for permission?" he said incredulously. I bowed my head, not wanting to meet his dark, mad gaze. "Rosemarie, you know my rules. You can't leave unless I approve," he chastised, sounding fairly upset.

In a submissive voice, I mumbled, "I'm sorry, Father. It won't happen again."

A sigh left him. In a tired, final voice, he replied, "Thank you, that's all I ask." Father then focused on Lissa, who was still pale and trembling. He took her away from Rhea and Jill and guided her to the bathroom so she could be properly pacified.

Once he left, Rhea glared at me viciously before following him. Jill then came up to me. Her turquoise gown danced around her legs until she reached me. Her jade-green eyes were wide in disbelief. "Did Cesarevich Dimitri really do that?" she whispered. I nodded, not wanting to speak. After my response, she said in a slightly louder voice, "I don't think you should keep learning how to fight."

I crossed my arms over my chest and pursed my lips, annoyed. "Why not?"

Jill jumped back at my harsh tone, and I immediately felt bad. She kept her soft gaze lowered as she muttered, "It's not ladylike. And what if you get hurt? It's a very dangerous sport."

"Are you saying that females are weak and inferior?" I challenged.

Aware of my stiff, edgy demeanor, Jill only shook her head, causing her light brown hair to sway around her young, pretty face like a curtain. "Never mind, Rose," was all she said. With that, my younger stepsister retreated to the bedchamber we shared. I released a loud sigh, running my hands through my hair, ripping it out of its neat bun. Wavy, darkest brown tresses cascaded around me, hiding me from the world.

I shuffled over to one of the velvet couches and plopped down, sinking into the cushions. It felt comforting, especially as quietness began permeating the lodge room, hanging above my head like a cloud. I closed my eyes and reveled in the peaceful atmosphere. Within minutes, I fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

 **December 2** **nd** **, 1685**

 **I am swirling with a mix of positive and negative emotions. I very much enjoyed my time with Cesarevich Dimitri and loved that I gained some knowledge about combat. I am so excited for our future sessions that will involve firearms and bows and arrows. I can't believe this! This is so amazing!**

 **However, I am upset that my family—excluding Father—disapproves of me learning how to fight. I do not care about measly cultural traditions and societal expectations; I want to do what I please. I am sure Mother would have supported me on this matter.**

 **My putrid stepmother never supports me.**

 **I am also quite surprised that Lissa didn't defend me. I didn't think she'd be so tied to what society expected of us, but she is entitled to her opinion, and I can't judge her for it. She is my friend, after all.**

 **Oh well, maybe this can all get better as time progresses. Hmm, I say this quite a lot…**

 **Until next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

I sat outside in the Russian cold, winter quickly approaching. The trees were brown and bare, their naked limbs twisted and skinny against the frosted ground and clear, blue sky. My breath was visible in the air, a small cloud of condensed water. My body shivered, even under all the layers I was wearing—a furry hat, coat, gloves, and boots.

"Do you want my coat?" came an accented, deep voice. I jerked to the side, craning my neck to find Cesarevich Dimitri standing before me in the long, dark coat he wore when I had first met him. His dark brown gaze seemed warm compared to the environment, stray strands of lighter hair framing his handsome face.

I pressed a hand to my throat. "Do you sneak up on everyone you come across?" I said, half-teasing and half-serious.

Cesarevich Dimitri sat down beside me on a wooden bench. He replied, "No. You just weren't aware of your surroundings. You always need to pay attention to what's occurring or what could occur. You know, in case something happens and it's too late." His voice was lower and haunted by the end of the sentence, and I watched him closely, trying to find any reason for his behavior. What was his secret? What was his story?

Unconsciously, I placed my hand over his to comfort him. Cesarevich Dimitri stared at our touching hands for a few moments before moving his to his coat pocket. I tried to fight the rejection that blossomed by looking up the sky. I didn't think I ever came by a sky as clear and captivating as Russia's…

"What's that?" he wondered, peering at the red velvet material of my personal journal. Instinctively, I grabbed it and hid it in my own coat, hoping he'd leave it alone. Cesarevich Dimitri flicked his intense gaze to me, stating, "It's personal, isn't it?" I nodded. He nodded too, understanding filling his features. "I used to have a journal, when I was little."

I turned to him. My brows arched. "Really?" I would have never suspected that he had documented his life experiences at some point. I supposed he truly did have plenty of things to conceal—things that were unspeakable yet needed a release.

Cesarevich Dimitri nodded. "Yes. I would write in it all the time. However, as I grew older, I couldn't stand my journal anymore. As a child, it was the perfect escape, yet as a more mature person, it only became a haunting nightmare in the form of words. I eventually got rid of it, but I still find myself writing letters to clear my head. I guess it's just a habit," he revealed in a fluid rush.

It was silent for a long while, and a strong wind blew around us. It was refreshing. Yet, so many thoughts were swimming in my mind…I grabbed his hand this time, interlacing our fingers. Cesarevich Dimitri didn't break away. In a soft voice, I asked, "What happened?" I wanted to know so bad that it hurt. I wanted to make him feel better, to know that he wasn't alone.

He appeared conflicted. His mind seemed to be telling him no, but his heart seemed to be telling him yes. It took a long time for Cesarevich Dimitri to answer, and much to my dismay, he shook his head. A distraught, worn look crossed his face, aging him a few years. "Now is not the time, Rose. I'm sorry, but it'll just have to wait," he replied, sounding tired and reluctant. I sighed and accepted his answer, letting the issue go.

We sat together in comfortable silence as the wind continued to blow. The sky was beginning to darken, streaks of orange, pink, and yellow staining the western horizon while shades of blue and violet appeared from the east. After a while, Cesarevich Dimitri slowly opened his coat and placed it over my own. Delightful warmth filled me.

I scooted closer and leaned into him.

* * *

 _ **February 11**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1676**_

 _My lungs burned as my feet pounded on the hard earth. My limbs complained as my heart hammered against my ribcage. She was behind me, searching, and I couldn't let her find me. Not now, not yet._

" _Rosemarie!" Mother shouted from multiple feet away in another part of the maze, her strong Scottish accent lacing her words. "Where are you, my dear?" A small giggle escaped my mouth, and I pushed myself to run faster. She kept calling, but her voice was quieting as the distance between us increased._

 _After some time, I paused by a tall, thick tree to catch my breath. My whole body was hurting, but I couldn't let Mother win at hide-and-seek. I was an undefeated champion, and there was no way I was going to allow her to ruin my record._

 _Silence reigned throughout the maze. Mother wasn't calling, and I couldn't hear her steps. I wanted to walk in to get an idea of her location, yet I was afraid that she'd end up finding me and winning the game. These two choices pulled at me in an internal tug-of-war._

" _I got you!" I screamed in shock as Mother grabbed me from behind and spun me around, laughing at me while I tried to process what was happening. Soon, my shock transformed into laughter and her chuckles quickly joined mine. We twirled and laughed without a care in the world, then Mother set me down, fixing her auburn hair and gold dress._

" _Race you!" I tore off through the maze, leaving Mother behind, but I heard her catch up a couple of seconds later. We weaved through the styled, green hedges, spinning and giggling until we reached the manor. I dramatically jumped up and down, bragging, "I won. I won!"_

 _Mother smiled at me playfully. "No you didn't, Rosemarie. I won hide-and-seek."_

 _I shook my head. "I'm talking about the race. I won that. And, you only won hide-and-seek because I wasn't paying attention," I said, sticking out my tongue._

 _Mother rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I still won, Rosemarie." For some reason, I began pouting and stomping my feet, growing upset. I collapsed onto the porch, huffing and crossing my arms over my chest. Actual tears started sliding down my cheeks. Mother shushed soothingly, lowering herself onto the porch, wrapping her arms around me._

" _I'm a loser, mum," I cried, feeling worthless._

 _She rubbed my hair and kissed my head, embracing me with motherly love and affection. "No you're not, sweetheart. You're still a champion. You'll always be a champion," she softly assured, rocking me gently._

 _I looked up at her. "Really?"_

 _Mother smiled and wiped a tear away. Her hazel eyes were so warm. "Really."_

* * *

 **DPOV**

 _ **August 31**_ _ **st**_ _ **, 1683**_

 _The sharp, steel sword hit the fake human as I swung. Sweat poured down my body, strands of dark hair sticking to my forehead. My vision started becoming blurry as my limbs ached and quivered, yet I forced myself to keep going. With all the strength I could muster, I continuously attacked the practice dummy over and over again._

 _Nothing distracted my mentality. I was focused and in an entirely different world. The only thing I took notice of was the clash of metal, my labored breathing, and the sounds of my grunts. It was so comforting being alone. I sometimes wished that I could forever live in a state of solitude._

" _Dimka," called a soft, feminine voice. Ignoring the person, I struck harder and faster, trying to make my surroundings magically disappear. Distantly, I heard purposeful footsteps, and when the female reached me, she placed a light hand on my bicep. Instantly, I froze. "Dimka, this isn't a good use of your time," my older sister, Czarevna Karolina Belikova, said in Russian._

 _Sighing, I looked down at her, staring into the dark brown eyes that were identical to mine. I rubbed my face and ran a hand through my hair. "Leave me be, сестра (sister). I don't want to hear anything that you have to say," I firmly replied in Russian, directing my attention back to my sword. I resumed striking, however Karolina didn't move. She only stared at me._

" _Dimka, stop. Stop right now," she strictly ordered. It reminded me of when we were younger. She had always commanded me to do things, as if she were in charge of me. That is, until our father had gotten involved._

 _I grunted in frustration, beginning to pace like a caged animal. Why couldn't Karolina just leave me alone? Why did she always have to feel obligated to watch over me, as if I was still the little boy who lived in fear every single day for thirteen years? "Don't tell me what to do," I spat, sounding so vicious that she stumbled back. Fear clouded her warm, protective eyes, and immediately, I felt terrible._

 _I felt like our father._

 _The sword slid out of my grip, clattering on the floor. I slowly went over to Karolina, regret and self-hate washing over me. "I'm so sorry, сестра. I didn't mean to get mad at you. I don't know what came over me," I apologizing, stopping right before her. In the dim lighting, Karolina seemed like a little girl again, with her large, dark eyes and smooth face._

 _She nodded and gave me a loving embrace. I returned the gesture, drawing strength and comfort as her arms were wrapped around me. "I forgive you, Dimka. I will always forgive you," she whispered. "You're not like our father. You'll never be like him."_

 _Her words were like sweet music to my ears. I had been struggling for a long time, worried that I'd only grow up to be a cruel man who committed cruel things. I had thought my small tendencies to lose self-control would make me hellish, make me evil._

 _It made me afraid to live._

 _But now, I realized that I was good-natured and had good intentions. My heart and soul shone in light. It wasn't dimmed in darkness. I needed to make sure I used it to fulfill the most in life._

 _I was going to open my eyes and take what the world held out for me._

* * *

 **RPOV**

It was completely dark by the time Cesarevich Dimitri dropped me off at the lodge. We embraced each other goodbye, and he walked back to the royal palace in the freezing cold, his only guide being a few twinkling stars and a silver moon.

I slipped into the room as silent as I could, shutting the mahogany door softly behind me. I rushed to the bedchamber, where Lissa and Jill snoozed quietly, their light heads peaking underneath the white sheets. As I changed into my nightgown, I wondered if Father and Rhea were asleep until I heard pleasurable moans softly drift throughout the lodge room. Repulsion washed over me, and I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, trying to block out the disturbing noises.

Right before I drifted off to sleep, Lissa whispered softer than the wind, "Rose."

I turned over and sat upright, not bothering to turn on the lamplight. I could see my stepsister's pale hair illuminating the darkness as I squinted my eyes. "You're awake, Lissa?" I asked, surprised. I thought I was noiseless, but I supposed that wasn't the case.

"Yes. I heard you get into bed," she explained in a voice that was slightly lighter than a whisper. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. For all of ours. It was mean, and we should've supported you," she apologized.

I smiled, even though she probably couldn't see it. "It's all right, Lissa. I won't lie, I was fairly angry at the response you all gave me, but I know that you won't hold it against me and hate me for it. It just needs some getting used to."

"Thanks, Rose. It means so much to me that you're not mad anymore." A soft yawn escaped her mouth. Lissa began rubbing her eyes and scratching, from what I could tell. "It's really late. We should start going to sleep, now. Goodnight," she said before snuggling under the sheets and falling into a quiet slumber.

"Goodnight," I replied back. I copied Lissa's actions, getting comfortable and closing my eyes. This time, I wasn't interrupted, and sleep claimed me.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14: Defying Tradition

**Thanks for the follows and reviews! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV—One Month Later**

Cesarevich Dimitri's silver sword narrowly missed my head as I ducked late. I could hear the sound of pure metal swiping against air, and my heart thundered in my chest while I laboriously breathed. His dark brown eyes pierced mine, and sweat poured down both of our bodies as if we were melting. Strands of lighter hair were plastered to his face. "Focus, Rose," he demanded.

Nodding, I quickly recovered and gathered my strength, gripping my sword in my hands. The ornate hilt felt warm and slippery underneath my skin, but I imagined that the blade was as cold as ice. Cesarevich Dimitri and I circled for a while, until he found an opportunity and swung at my open side; however, I saw it coming and blocked, pushing his sword back.

"Good," he commented, his intense gaze brightening and lean body relaxing. Then, it darkened and he fell back into the instructor's mindset. "But I know you can do more than that, Rose. Take advantage of your potential." I nodded, then concentrated and scrutinized his godlike body for any flaws. It was very difficult to spot one, but I eventually found an opening.

Without giving any indication, I lunged forward as if I was aiming to stab his abdomen, causing Cesarevich Dimitri to bounce back and temporarily lose form. I immediately brought my sword back and swung swiftly at his concealed arm, catching him by surprise and victoriously ripping his thick shirt. A red line appeared, and blood oozed, staining the white fabric. I instantaneously dropped my sword and ran to him. "Oh my goodness, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry," I rambled, feeling so horrible.

Cesarevich Dimitri held up his muscular arm, observing the wound. "It's only a small injury, Rose. I'll be fine." He then met my gaze, those dark brown eyes so intense and powerful. Unconsciously, he moved closer to me—our bodies were almost touching. "And there's no way in the world you could ever hurt me," Cesarevich Dimitri softly said, barely caressing my cheek with his calloused fingers.

My eyes fluttered. "What are you talking about?" I whispered, confused.

He stared at me for several moments, silence permeating the surrounding Siberian wilderness. The sky was covered in a cluster of white clouds. Wildlife suited for warmer temperatures were absent while those suited for the cold took their place. The tall, sturdy trees were brown and naked, and the high mountains were coated in fresh snow, which also rested under our feet. Finally, Cesarevich Dimitri sighed and grabbed my arm, leading me over to sit on a large log.

"What are you going to tell me?" I wondered, watching him stare off into the distance. He seemed disturbed and unnerved, so to comfort him, I placed my gloved hand on his own and interlaced our fingers. The gesture calmed Cesarevich Dimitri, and after a few more moments of silence, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Remember when I told you that I used to possess a journal and wrote as an escape?" he started. I slowly nodded, not knowing where this was headed. He closed his eyes for a brief second before revealing, "That was because my family was abused by my father." My entire body froze; I couldn't form any coherent thought. Cesarevich Dimitri noticed my expression and lowly said, "You don't need to pity me, Rose. It's fine."

Once those words left his mouth, I grew incredulous. "Fine? How can you say that was completely fine? Your father was a cruel man who turned against his own family! That's downright unacceptable, and you know it. How can you accept what he did to you?" I was hyperventilating and quaking by the end, feeling very on edge.

Cesarevich Dimitri merely answered, "Because I'm moving on, Rose. I'll admit, I still struggle with that experience sometimes; however, if I remain in the past, it would mean that my father still has control over me, and I don't want that anymore." Suddenly, he appeared very small, like he was a little Russian boy again, facing the wrath of his vicious father.

In the quietest voice, I asked, "Why? What happened?"

"My father, Czar Aleksandr Belikov, wanted to have all or a majority of male heirs, even though they'd bequeath the throne anyway. He absolutely loved my mother, Czarina Olena Belikova, so that was the only thing he ever asked of her. It seemed simple enough, correct?" Cesarevich Dimitri asked, turning to face me, his aura darkened.

I shook my head. "No. It doesn't happen that often."

His voice was brutally cold and hard. "Exactly. The firstborn child was my eldest sister, Czarevna Karolina Belikova. My father was furious, but he warned my mother to not have any more female offspring. A year later, my elder sister, Czarevna Sonya Belikova, was born, and the horror began. My father physically and verbally abused my mother almost every day in front of my sisters. Very early on, we quickly feared and hated him."

Repulsion and anger flowed through me. My hands clenched. "What a monster. He should be ashamed of himself," I spat venomously.

"Sadly, he wasn't," Cesarevich Dimitri lowly replied. He continued in an even lower voice, "Another year passed, and my mother gave birth to me. My father was happy, and he stopped abusing her. For eight years, my family was abuse-free…until my younger sister, Czarevna Viktoria Belikova, was born. After that, it was a living nightmare." He seemed frozen solid, as if he were experiencing that life all over again.

"You don't have to continue," I whispered, squeezing his hand.

Cesarevich Dimitri squeezed mine back. "No, Rose. I have to. I need to get this off my chest." I nodded and listened as he resumed, "By that point, I was eight years of age, Sonya was nine, and Karolina was ten. Our father abused our mother again, however it was worse. He would get drunk, scream at her for minutes, and then beat her like an animal. Many times, she'd fall unconscious, and the only thing I could do was comfort my sisters. The royal staff was even too afraid to do anything because my father scared them, despite his past good behavior.

"My father then began abusing my sisters the same way he did to our mother. He just didn't make them go into unconsciousness. He yelled and hit them enough to have blood and bruises appear. However, he never laid a finger on me because I was his son. I was his "rightful" heir. This gruesome treatment began transferring to all of Russia."

Realization washed over me. I stated, "That's why you keep track of the peasantry."

Cesarevich Dimitri nodded, looking tired and pained and haunted all at once. I gave him a warm embrace, which he gratefully accepted. Once he regained composure, he responded, "My father increased taxes, Russia was in debt, and the cold weather made it hard for many people to grow food. The peasant population grew, and along with it was starvation. Meanwhile, my family continued living in opulence. The people were angry, but they were too weak and unorganized to revolt.

"For five years, I documented everything in a journal. I hid it in a safe place and would write in the dark every night when everyone was asleep. It helped me cope with the turmoil, but it started failing me as I approached adolescence. At thirteen years of age, I had enough and confronted my father for the first time. I was taller and stronger than him by that point—I had spent the last couple of years in intensive, combat and self-defense training. Quite easily, I overpowered my father and made him leave our family and the palace. After that, he disappeared," Cesarevich Dimitri finished. He seemed broken and completely worn out.

Embracing him again, I softly said, "I'm glad you told me. You didn't have to share all of this, but you did. I appreciate it." Cesarevich Dimitri faced me, his dark brown eyes filled with warmth, his full lips lifting into a small smile. Suddenly, I felt like I owed him my background. Since he shared his, it was only fair. Closing my eyes, I confessed, "I lost my mother three years ago, when I was fourteen years of age."

He fell sympathetic, soothingly rubbing the top of my gloved hand. "Do you miss her?"

"All the time. We were really close, practically best friends. My father remarried a few months ago, wedding a woman by the name of Lady Rhea Dragomir, who had been married to another prominent lord named Eric Dragomir. I gained two stepsisters, Vasilisa and Jillian; however, I wasn't that closed to them in the beginning," I explained.

Cesarevich Dimitri furrowed his dark brows. "Why not?"

"My stepfamily treated me like a servant. I had to do all of the chores, despite the maids we had at our manor. At school, Vasilisa gave me the worst treatment, and at home, she took my things and claimed them as her own. I hated all three of them, until I found out why Vasilisa was being so horrible. After that, her and Jillian were actually nice, caring people and became my friends. However, Rhea still acts as if I'm worthless."

"Oh Rose, I'm sorry that you lost your beloved mother. I'm sure that she's watching you from the heavens, sending you strength and love as you go about life," he said solemnly. I smiled. "Yet, I'm confused as to why your father married a woman like Lady Rhea Dragomir?"

All I could do was shrug. "I've no idea, either. Maybe he saw something sweet in her, or maybe he's just trying to move on," I guessed. Even though Rhea acted like an angel around Father, I doubted that he perceived her that way. I believed more in him wanting to forget the past.

Cesarevich Dimitri grunted. "Maybe." He then widened his eyes, as if he remembered something. I watched him in curious expectation until he said, "I almost forgot to tell you: my family's annual ball is next week, on the ninth of January. Since I need to claim the throne soon, all maidens are invited, but it's also open to anyone of at least noble blood."

At hearing that, my heart fluttered in my chest. I couldn't wait to go to the ball! Cesarevich Dimitri and I already had a special connection, so it would be amazingly wonderful if he chose me. He had to choose me, right? I remembered being excited for Prince Adrian's party; however, we truthfully hadn't been romantically interested in each other, and he picked Sydney Sage as his bride. Surely, things had to go my way.

This time _shall_ be different.

* * *

 **DPOV**

"Dimka, where were you? You were gone for a long time," my mother questioned in Russian as she stood in the doorway of my bedchamber. The sunlight streaming through the windows and curtains caught her dark, flowing dress and brightened its color. Her dark brown eyes watched me as I bustled about, organizing things.

"I went out for a morning walk," I smoothly answered in Russian, not meeting her gaze. There was no way I could tell her that I had actually been out in the wilderness teaching Rosemarie Mazur, a young woman, how to master combat and self-defense. Also, the fact that I had told her about our family history. My mother would be upset and disappointed—she didn't believe in women dabbling in weapons and violence, and she always wanted our past to be a secret.

My mother walked into the room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She went to my elaborate bed and sat on the edge, placing her hands in her lap and sitting up straight. "You're lying to me, Dimka," she stated, her tone hard and no-nonsensical. "I want to know the truth, and I want to know it this instant, young man." Like usual, Czarina Olena Belikova could always see right through me, as if my soul was made of glass.

Sighing, I stopped what I was doing and walked to my bed, sitting down beside her. I felt her dark stare penetrating me. I felt like a boy again. "I'm sorry for lying, мать. I was gone for so long because I…was with a girl this morning," I admitted, keeping my voice low. That probably wasn't wise, though, for my mother widened her eyes, and her tanned cheeks reddened.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were intimate with someone—"

"No! That's not what I meant," I interrupted, running a hand through my hair. My mother fell silent and waited for me to explain. "I was helping a girl train, which I have actually been doing for a while," I slowly said in Russian, expecting her to be outraged and viciously chastise me for defying society.

Instead, my mother asked, "Who's the girl?"

Cautiously, I replied, "Rosemarie Mazur."

Surprisingly, she smiled and supportively rubbed my arm, the one that I injured during practice. It wasn't healed quite yet, so when my mother ran her fingers over the slit, I slightly jumped. She immediately noticed the wound and ripped fabric off my shirt. "Did she do this, Dimka?" she concernedly wondered.

I nodded.

"I suppose you're teaching her well," she commented. I smiled awkwardly. After a few moments, my mother questioned, "Did you invite her to our ball?" I nodded. "Do you care about her?" I nodded slower. "Do you have feelings for her?" I didn't respond.

Rose was seventeen years of age, and I was twenty-four. Even though lots of girls were married young and had children before they even turned twenty, I felt that it wasn't right. I wasn't too keen on the idea of arranged marriages or anything of the sort, despite this point in time. I preferred if two people got to fall in love on their own. Choose their own fate.

With Rose, it wasn't like any other type of relationship. I could easily confide in and connect with her. She could read me as if I were a book, and we behaved the same and shared a similar past. Never had I encountered someone like her.

I wanted for us to have something deeper, but I was hesitant. She was so young and still learning about the world. I didn't want to take her innocence so quickly with marriage and intimacy, and I haven't even kissed her yet. But, during the past month, I had found it harder to be around her. Rose seemed more beautiful as each day passed, and we were getting closer. Maybe by next week, I could make everything a reality.

Finally, I whispered, "Yes."

My mother nodded, seeming to approve of my intentions. Suddenly, she stiffened like she was turning into stone, and her voice was so low that I almost didn't hear her. "Did you tell Rosemarie about…about our family, Dimka?"

Reluctantly, I answered, "Yes, мать."

Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath. "How did she react?"

"She wasn't happy, and she felt sorry for us. She thinks that Отец is a monster."

My mother nodded again, relaxing. "Rosemarie seems like a good girl. Why don't you invite her to our traditional Sunday brunch, tomorrow? I'd love to meet her and her family, and I think Karolina, Sonya, and Viktoria would too," she suggested wholeheartedly, no ounce of lie in her words.

It was quite a huge step, but I was sure that Rose would be honored to come to the palace. And frankly, I was glad my mother suggested it—I secretly wanted her to come over. I said, "That sounds like a good idea. I'll tell her."

My mother smiled and gave me a soft kiss to my temple. "You go do that, my son." After that, she got off my bed and exited my bedchamber, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

 **RPOV**

It was mid-afternoon when I stood by the window, peering at the partially blue sky and radiant beams of golden sunlight through the clear glass. Father and Rhea had left to get us lunch at a nearby café while I stayed at the lodge room. Vasilisa and Jillian were in our bedchamber relaxing and quietly talking, their voices softer than whispers. I was about ready to sit when a knock came on the door.

Hurriedly, I rushed over and opened the mahogany structure, surprised to see Cesarevich Dimitri standing behind the threshold. He wore clothes different from this morning's—he was clad in a brown suit that complemented his hair, eyes, and tanned skin. His feet were in a sophisticated pair of black shoes, and a silver ring was around his finger. "What brings you here, Cesarevich Dimitri?" I wondered confusedly.

He seemed a bit nervous, but nonetheless, he said, "I came to invite you and your family to the royal palace's traditional Sunday brunch tomorrow." He quickly added, "If that's all right with you." I was stunned silent and couldn't believe my ears. Cesarevich Dimitri seriously wanted me to come to his home and meet his family so soon? We weren't officially courting, but we were close enough at this point. Oh my goodness, this was amazing…

"Rose, can you please tell Jill that my dress is prettier than hers? She's being really ridiculous right now—" Lissa babbled, coming into the main room, oblivious to the fact that I was currently at the door speaking with Cesarevich Dimitri. I didn't say anything, and after a few seconds, she said, "Rose? Rose, where'd you go?" Lissa came closer, and she finally noticed me at the door.

"Hey, Lissa. What did you want me to—"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Oh my god, Cesarevich Dimitri is here. He is at our lodge room!" she screamed in hysterical disbelief. My stepsister clutched her platinum-blond hair and started pacing as if she were insane.

Jill rushed out of the bedchamber and went over to Lissa, concern filling her features...until she saw Cesarevich Dimitri and gaped.

Immensely embarrassed, I shook my head and kept my gaze averted as I apologized, "I'm so sorry for their behavior." I looked up afterwards.

Cesarevich Dimitri appeared very amused, but didn't laugh. A small smile was etched onto his handsome face. "It's fine. We'll just wait for her to calm down," he coolly replied. I nodded yet still felt humiliated, and after several minutes, Lissa finally regained composure and ran over to us, her coral gown flying around her.

Her jade-green eyes were impossibly wide for a moment, then she curtsied like crazy. "It is such a wonderful honor to meet you, Cesarevich Dimitri of Russia," she respectfully greeted. Jill was frozen like a statue, her mouth still agape, before she ran over to Lissa's side and copied her sister. Unlike Prince Adrian, Cesarevich Dimitri grew uncomfortable.

"You may cease curtsying. That's quite enough, girls," he ordered. Immediately, they stopped and waited silently in perfect poise. He sighed and rolled his eyes, straightening his suit. He then put on a sweet smile. "It's nice to meet you as well. I came to inform your family of an invite to the royal palace for Sunday brunch, if you're interested," he politely explained.

Lissa exclaimed too enthusiastically, "Of course we're interested, your excellency! This is like a dream come true, isn't it Rose?" I ignored her prying stare and Jill's vigorous nodding, focusing all of my attention on Cesarevich Dimitri, who was eager to hear my response.

I smiled after I finished thinking. "It is, indeed. We'd love to attend."

He smiled back. "Perfect. However, I think your parents need to know about this before an official decision can be made. As a matter of fact, where are they?" he wondered, his dark brows crashing over his eyes.

"They went to get us something to eat," piped Lissa, too bubbly for toleration. Her pale, pretty face seemed about ready to crack from all of the smiling she was doing. Cesarevich Dimitri nodded in confirmation before wishing us all goodbye and giving me an embrace. I closed the door and was swiftly bombarded with their words.

"He's so handsome!" Jill dreamily gushed.

"He so loves you!" Lissa squealed.

"I can't wait for tomorrow."

"How has the sword training been going? Are you really good at it?"

I couldn't take their babbling anymore and demanded, "Enough! Will you both be quiet? Good heavens, you're way more happy about this than me." I abandoned them, going over to one of the velvet couches to take a break. They followed me like ducklings, coming to sit beside me, their faces close.

"Sorry, but this is just so exciting," Lissa said.

Jill nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

As they fell into another round of babble, I sighed and shut my eyes, trying to drown out their voices. Fortunately, I was able to fall asleep, and thanks to my stepsisters, I dreamed of Cesarevich Dimitri and me together, dancing at the ball, focusing on no one else but us.

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 **The next chapter will involve the Sunday brunch and a new character appearance:)**

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	15. Chapter 15: The Sunday Bunch

**Sorry I took almost two weeks to update! I tried to get it by one week, but school's consuming and I need to just relax sometimes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and have fun reading! (A little of this chapter is in Lissa's POV)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

The Russian royal palace was ornately beautiful—colorful, patterned architecture starkly contrasted against the gray, cloudy sky. Similar to the Protestant Church of Fairston Academy, its structure seemed formidably majestic with all its sharp angles, smooth curves, looming height, and enormous area.

My family and I arrived at the wrought, iron gate, where stoic guards stopped our bumbling carriage from proceeding. I could hear their robotic, heavily accented voices demand, "State your business," to the coachmen. After the coachmen explained our presence, the guards wordlessly opened the gate, which uttered a low creak. The horses' hooves clopped along the ground as the carriage rolled forward.

As we rode to the palace on the long pathway, Lissa clutched my arm. Her slender body emanated excitement. "I can't believe we're actually going to have brunch with the royal family of Russia! Isn't this wonderful?" she gushed, her pale skin turning happily red.

Jill smiled, her pretty, white teeth seeming to brighten the whole carriage. "I know. I would've never expected this to happen, but it is. And it's all because Cesarevich Dimitri has a soft spot for Rose," she said, knowingly eyeing me.

I couldn't help but blush. My goodness, they made it sound as if we were in a serious relationship—by all means, I'd have no issue with that. We were definitely growing closer, yet Cesarevich Dimitri and I were progressing things slowly, partially because of what I had experienced with Prince Adrian.

I didn't want to naively expect things to come true, when they were only going to collapse...Though, a girl had a right to fantasize.

Rhea frowned at me, her jade-green eyes crackling like an electrical fire. "Rosemarie, you do realize that this is all a mistake? Cesarevich Dimitri shouldn't be biased in any way before the annual ball," my stepmother coldly said, crossing her arms over her chest. While I kept a straight face, her words still stabbed my heart like a knife.

Lissa and Jill's eyes went wide; they were stunned silent. Father's gaze darkened, and he slapped Rhea's thigh hard enough to draw her attention. "Don't say that," he reprimanded angrily, his voice low and fierce. "He's a good man with good intentions, from what our daughters told us yesterday. Whether you like this or not, be on your best behavior and support Rosemarie. Understand?"

Very reluctantly, Rhea nodded. It was tensely silent until we arrived at the grand, front entrance. I was so relieved to finally get some fresh air—it seemed as if I had been trapped. The velvet carriage parked before the gorgeous yet strangely ominous palace, and the coachmen helped us exit. Russian stewards bowed and led us into the building, which made all of us gasp in absolute awe.

Crystal chandeliers hung above our heads, sparkling in white-gold light. Reflective, marble floors echoed while we walked, swirls of white and black delicately curving beneath our feet. Precise portraits of past Russian monarchs lined the flawless, red walls chronologically—countless, male faces intensely stared as we shuffled forward.

There was a winding, gold staircase as we stopped in the center of the palace. With all the regality in the universe, a middle-aged woman with a shimmering, blood-red gown descended the stairs, a warm smile etched onto her pretty face. Once she reached the base, her dress trailed behind her like a river. She walked over to us.

When she stopped, the woman curtsied in greeting. The diamonds of her bejeweled crown glittered under the enchanting light. "Thank you for coming, Mazur family," she politely said in a Russian accent somehow thicker than Cesarevich Dimitri's. "Your attendance is much appreciated. To formally introduce myself, I am Czarina Olena Belikova of Russia."

Father bowed respectfully, his chestnut-brown eyes kind. "It is such a pleasure to meet you, your imperial highness. We are immensely grateful for the invite." He then introduced, "I'm Lord Ibrahim Mazur." Czarina Olena smiled wider. He wrapped his arm around Rhea, whose emerald-green dress resembled vomit. "This is my wife, Lady Rhea Dragomir-Mazur," he continued. "And these are our daughters combined, Rosemarie, Jillian, and Vasilisa."

Cesarevich Dimitri's mother's brows furrowed. "You were married prior to her?"

Father grew uncomfortable, yet he replied nonetheless. "Yes, your majesty. I was wedded to Lady Janine Hathaway, who was Rosemarie's mother. I wedded Rhea a few months ago." He was beginning to choke up and sniffle, so Czarina Olena dropped the subject, said an apology, and came over to me and my stepsisters.

"My, you're all such beautiful, young ladies," she sweetly complimented. We uttered thanks, falling shy and keeping our voices soft. "I have daughters, as well," she added, expanding her attention to Father and Rhea. "They're all adults, except for my youngest, who's sixteen years of age. Actually, my children should be coming down right about now."

On cue, Cesarevich Dimitri and his sisters descended the glorious staircase. My family gasped in awe once again as they strode over. When they reached us, Cesarevich Dimitri bowed while his sisters curtsied.

He seemed so handsome in his dark, obsidian ensemble comprised of a button down shirt, jacket, tie, trousers, and shoes. His medium-brown hair was worn loose today, caressing the tops of his shoulders in soft waves. Those chocolate-brown eyes, identical to Czarina Olena's, sparkled wonderfully as he greeted me. "Rose," he said in his hypnotic accent, which made my body shiver. Cesarevich Dimitri gentlemanly kissed my gloved hand.

Air seemed to leave me, but I managed to respond. "Cesarevich Dimitri."

Like a complete thorn in the side, Rhea dramatically curtsied, displaying her cleavage. I was so angry at her for doing so, yet fortunately, Cesarevich Dimitri wasn't fazed. "It's such a pleasure to meet you, fair prince," she sultrily drawled.

Jill and Lissa went wide-eyed at their mother's behavior while Father clenched his fists and pursed his lips. Being the polite man he was, Cesarevich Dimitri released a small smile. "Likewise, madam. My family and I are so joyed you could attend." He then set his dark gaze on my stepsisters. "Lissa, Jill, it's great seeing you again," he greeted, widening his smile.

They beamed at his words, curtseying. "You too, your graciousness."

Cesarevich Dimitri's sisters then stepped forward. They looked like Russian angels, with flowing, ivory gowns, lightly tanned skin, and sharp yet beautiful features. Similar to their brother, they were tall with wavy, dark hair and eyes.

The oldest appearing one spoke, her tiara glittering as she held an infant in her arms. "I'm Czarevna Karolina Belikova," she nicely introduced, "Dimitri's eldest sister."

A little boy, probably around the age of ten, came out from behind her. He clutched her dress with his small, pale fist and stared at my family with wide, blue eyes. "My name's Paul Belikov," he said in a quiet, cute voice. Czarevna Karolina smiled adoringly at him, caressing his dark head. He almost looked like Cesarevich Dimitri.

"He's my son," she explained. She then displayed the little baby cradled in her arms. It was a girl, and her eyes were closed as she slept soundlessly. "This is my daughter, Zoya. I gave birth to her four months ago." My stepsisters and I cooed at Zoya while Father and Rhea gazed at her sweetly. She seemed as if she were a fragile doll.

A slightly younger woman spoke next. "I'm Czarevna Sonya Belikova, Dimitri's elder sister." She looked pleasant like Czarevna Karolina; however, I sensed this strangeness that permeated her aura. As I stared longer, I noticed a bump protruding from her gown. She noticed me staring and placed her hands on her stomach. "To confirm your suspicions, I am indeed pregnant."

Lissa said, "Congratulations, princess."

Czarevna Sonya forced a smile and grew tense. "Thank you…Lissa, is it?" My stepsister nodded. Cesarevich Dimitri's older sister forced her smile even more. "That's a lovely name."

"Thank you," Lissa awkwardly replied, sensing her mood.

Sensing it as well, Czarina Olena was about to lead us all to the dining room when a much younger person spoke.

"Don't forget about me!"

We all directed our attention to Cesarevich Dimitri's younger sister, who was a very beautiful lass. Unlike her siblings, she acquired lighter brown hair with gold streaks, even though she shared other traits with them. Her figure wasn't womanly yet, but she had defined curves. "Hello, everyone. I'm the youngest in the family, Czarevna Viktoria Belikova."

Clapping her hands, Czarina Olena said, "All right, now that introductions are out of the way, we can begin heading to the dining room…" She walked away slowly to have us follow. Though, before we could go anywhere, a new voice surfaced.

"Hold on!" We turned our heads to find a gorgeous woman running over, her silver gown flying about her like a veil. I couldn't avert my gaze, for she had stark, pale skin that was emphasized by her chilling, ice-blue eyes, and long, raven-black hair. Her body was slender and toned, she had a perfect height, but a vicious scar ran down her left cheek. Somehow, the lady was still beautiful. "My goodness, I can't believe you were actually going to eat without dear, old me," she playfully said.

Czarina Olena chuckled. "Well, we're all hungry, and we've been introducing ourselves for quite some time."

The woman smiled brightly. "I apologize for my tardiness, everybody, but I am Lady Natasha Ozera. You may call me Tasha. Pleased to meet you all," she confidently greeted. It was so silent—all you could hear was a heartbeat pulsing through your ears. My entire family was wide-eyed, and the Belikovs stared at us confusedly.

Tasha wasn't at all surprised.

Lissa pointed a trembling finger soon after. "You're…you're Christian's aunt!" Tasha was now the one to widen her eyes. Her orbs seemed so crystalline, so mineral-like.

"How do you know my nephew?" she questioned. Then, she corrected herself. "Actually, everyone should know who he is, given his parents' history, but you seem to know him personally…"

Lissa shook her head, recovering. "We're courting, madam."

"Miss," she automatically corrected. "I'm a widow."

Lissa quickly took back her words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, you had no idea, honestly," Tasha dismissed. She then crossed her arms over her chest, her ice-blue eyes piercing my stepsister. "Why are you with Christian, anyway? You seem like the sort of girl who would be ostracizing people like him," she demanded rather harshly.

Lissa's heavenly face crumbled. Her lips began quivering, and a lone tear slid down her pale cheek. Czarevna Karolina immediately went over to Lissa and guided her away to help her calm down.

* * *

 **LPOV**

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Czarevna Karolina asked me as we went to the nearest bathroom. She had an arm wrapped around my shoulder while she was still holding her adorable daughter, and I started feeling bad, so I nodded and tried to move away.

"I appreciate everything, but I'm fine. Really," I nonchalantly said as I wiped some tears, sniffled, and fixed my disheveling appearance. Czarevna Karolina's gaze fell serious, her eyes darkening to black. Their intensity made me stop my façade; it was as if I was made of glass and she could easily peer through me.

"You're not all right, Lissa. Tasha's words have clearly hurt you. I know what it's like to have someone verbally degrade you and treat you wrongfully," she responded, her voice turning pained and haunted. Cesarevich Dimitri's sister clutched her baby tighter, as if it'd comfort her. I could see that it wasn't helping, though.

As we continued walking to a bathroom, I whispered, "What do you mean, your excellency?"

She looked extremely reluctant to reveal the entire truth, so all she said was, "Let me just say that I thought I'd never have a wonderful life." Czarevna Karolina went silent after that, and I spent the whole time pondering her words.

What could she possibly be talking about? How could a princess not have an amazing life?

When we turned a sharp corner, I witnessed a portrait of a recent Russian monarch. The czar had sharp features, dark hair and eyes, and was dressed in immensely ornate, royal attire. Czarevna Karolina's jaw clenched, and it intrigued me deeply.

"Who is he?" I asked.

She swallowed before muttering, "My father, Czar Aleksandr Belikov."

Memories of meeting every Belikov family member except the patriarch rushed to me. I cautiously wondered, "Where is he?"

Cesarevich Dimitri's oldest sister opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, we arrived at a bathroom. "Here we are, Lissa," she said instead. She held the door open for me.

Since she was clearly finished discussing this subject, I decided to leave it alone. Czarevna Karolina followed me inside, and the door softly closed behind us.

* * *

 **RPOV**

I stayed behind with the remainder of my family, the rest of the Belikov family, and Tasha, who was beginning to look guilty, but stayed silent.

"Why don't we go have brunch?" Czarina Olena suggested, wanting the tense atmosphere to dissipate. We all agreed and followed her to the lavish, dining room.

There were more crystal chandeliers hanging above our heads. A polished, ebony table sat in the middle of the room, decorated with porcelain plates; encrusted silverware; silk napkins; and, fragile drinking glasses.

The royal family of Russia sat beside each other on one side while my family sat on the other. Cesarevich Dimitri ushered me to sit to his right, and I blushed and complied. Unfortunately, Tasha sat down to his left and started striking up conversation. Cesarevich Dimitri easily fell into the dialogue and actually seemed relaxed and comfortable.

A pang of jealousy nipped at my heart. Was there anything going on between them? Were they more than just companions?

"So, Rosemarie, are you planning on coming to our annual ball?" Czarina Olena wondered while buttering a piece of black bread. The cooks had already prepared the food and arranged it on the table, so we could eat right away.

Czarevna Sonya ravished thin pancakes, Czarevna Viktoria sipped some wine, and Cesarevich Dimitri was chewing some dumpling as Tasha rambled on about god knows what. I played with my food as I replied, "Yes. I received the invitation and am very excited about the event."

She smiled at my answer. "Wonderful! You attended Prince Adrian of England's party, correct?" the empress asked next.

I nodded. "I did. It was a lovely experience."

"Who was chosen to be his bride?"

"Sydney Sage. She's of noble blood, and they actually had a relationship in the past," I answered. My brows then furrowed, and I questioned, "How did you not know this? I understand that Russia's on the edge of Europe, but this occurred over a month ago. It should be old news."

Before Czarina Olena could answer, Tasha spoke. Her ice-blue eyes—ones so identical to Christian's—pierced mine as if I was Lissa. "Where are you from, Rosemarie?"

I cleared my throat nervously. "I prefer to be called Rose, miss. And, I'm from England."

She narrowed her gaze and twirled her raven-black hair. "Interesting. Do you go to Fairston Academy, by any chance?"

Cesarevich Dimitri sighed. "Tasha, where are you going with this?"

"Don't fret, Dimka," she told him. He sighed again and quieted. _Dimka?_

I slowly nodded.

"Christian is also a student there, you know."

"Yes. I'm actually friends with your nephew. He was quite standoffish and tempered because of his past, but I realized that he has the potential to be caring and nice. He especially behaves that way around Lissa," I replied.

At that moment, Czarevna Karolina entered the dining room with my recovered stepsister and went to their respective seats. Rhea placed her hand on Lissa's arm. "Is everything okay, dearie?" She nodded and put on a smile, but I could tell that she was distracted. Very distracted.

Father didn't look convinced, but he left the issue alone and resumed eating his food. Jill had the same look on her face, and as always, didn't comment.

Czarevna Karolina gave Lissa a final look— _what had they been talking about?—_ before focusing on her daughter, who was beginning to awaken. Zoya gave a little cry, and her mother shushed as she rocked her in her arms. Czarina Olena handed her oldest daughter a milk bottle, and she took it, placing it in Zoya's mouth, who was instantaneously pacified.

Tasha began badgering Lissa again, but it wasn't severe enough to make her cry. "So, how is your courtship with Christian going along? Is it doing well? Is it doing terribly?" she pressed, really expressing herself as a meddling aunt.

It took a while for Lissa to answer. Finally, she inhaled a deep breath and said, "It's doing well. I love him so much; I don't think there's another person who's as amazing as he is." Tasha was stunned into surprise. She slightly nodded in approval and decided to be quiet for the rest of the brunch; however, I doubted it changed her perception of Lissa.

When everyone finished eating, my stepsisters and I bonded with Czarevna Viktoria, who was very outgoing compared to her siblings and loved company. We learned that she was currently working on her secondary education, much to Czarina Olena's opposition. She was also in a smitten courtship with a lord's son, Rolan Kislyak, despite her family and friend's disapproval.

After talking with Czarevna Viktoria, I directly congratulated Czarevna Sonya on her pregnancy and got to hold Zoya and talk to Paul. He was so cute and shy, and I learned that he idolized his uncle and tried to follow him everywhere.

I conversed with Cesarevich Dimitri myself, as well, and we talked about upcoming combat and self-defense practices, not to mention, him planning on having us go on an actual date. I felt so happy and complete inside, yet that sort of dimmed when I thought Tasha. I asked about her, and he said that she was a close friend of his and nothing more.

Lissa came up to me sometime during our conversation. Her jade-green eyes were burning with such curiosity that it had to be driving her insane. Very politely, she asked Cesarevich Dimitri, "Would you mind if I speak to Rose for a minute?"

He shook his head. "Not at all." He leaned down, placing a soft kiss to my cheek and whispering, "I'll talk to you later." I nodded, fighting the heat that flowed throughout my body. My goodness, the smallest things this man did to practically had me falling apart.

I faced Lissa. "Is something wrong?"

She glanced around to make sure no one was looking. Then, in a low voice, she said, "I think so. When Czarevna Karolina helped me calm down earlier, she said something about how she thought she'd never get to live a wonderful life. Do you know what that's all about?"

My blood ran cold. My heart seemed to have ceased its beating. What was I supposed to say? Should I even say anything? The past of the Belikovs was very private, and I respected them not wanting to be open about what had happened. It wasn't really my place to reveal the whole story, so I lied, "No, I don't."

Lissa didn't believe me. She rose a blond brow. "Are you sure? You and Cesarevich Dimitri seem to be getting pretty close. Hasn't he told you anything?"

I sighed. There was no way I could keep pretending. "Yes, Lissa. He told me practically everything that had happened, but I'm going to leave that up to his family to confess. It's not my business," I answered firmly.

She nodded in respect. "I understand." She then walked away and joined Father and Rhea, who were speaking to Czarina Olena. I stood by myself for several moments before Lady Tasha came up to me.

Her silver gown was shimmering, but her ice-blue eyes were stone cold. She quietly asked, "May I speak with you for a few minutes?" I had a bad feeling about what she wanted to discuss with me, yet I kept a straight face.

"Of course."

Christian's aunt forcefully grinned. "Great. Follow me."

* * *

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	16. Chapter 16: With Love Comes Misery

**Thanks so much for all of the follows and favs! I'm so glad that you're all liking the story. Sorry this took a little over two weeks, btw! Anyway, enjoy reading.**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

Tense silence hung between us, poisoning the atmosphere as if it were a toxic chemical. Tasha led me down an abandoned hallway, her silver gown gliding against the marble floor in the softest fashion. As my eyes stared at her dark haired head, I couldn't help but gulp. What on earth did she want to discuss with me?

"So, Rosemarie," Christian's aunt slowly began. "I've been noticing your behavior around Cesarevich Dimitri and vice versa." Instantly, my body grew cold, and my heartbeat seemed to slow. Tasha stopped walking and turned to me once we reached the end of the hallway. Her ice-blue eyes pierced mine knowingly…I was certain a hint of jealously was present.

I couldn't find my voice for several moments. All the while, she simply stared with the most penetrating gaze. "What are you suggesting, Lady Ozera?" I squeaked out, knowing her answer all too well. I glanced down at my hands as time progressed; they were pale.

Tasha pretended to wonder, closing the distance that separated our bodies. Her innocent, clueless façade was incredibly flawless—she must've spent years becoming an excellent actress. When her face was mere inches from mine, that mask disappeared and her voice was contaminated with harshness. "Don't play dumb, you little wench. We both know that you and Cesarevich Dimitri have deep feelings for each other. I can see it all too clearly."

Instinctively, I shrunk at Tasha's tone. My goodness, Christian having her as an aunt was unfathomable. She was so mean, and the fact that she raised him after his parents' execution made my head spin. I wondered if she had been domineering, always shadowing him and controlling his life. I sort of doubted it, since Tasha spoke lovingly about him, however who was I to know?

Shortly after, I was able to recover. Gaining some courage, I crossed my arms and levelly met her chilling gaze. "Why do you care so much? Do you also have feelings for Cesarevich Dimitri?" I questioned. Those words caused her to freeze, then she slowly stepped back and averted her eyes. Her body language screamed a thousand words.

"I used to," Tasha lowly and reluctantly replied. "It was about four years ago, after my husband's death. I was devastated, and he helped me endure the grief, which blossomed into a courtship. It was one of the best times of my life, and I actually fell in love again. I eventually started talking about marriage and having a family, yet Cesarevich Dimitri couldn't return my affections despite his efforts. We ended our relationship after nine months and continued being close friends."

"Is that why you call him Dimka?"

She nodded, still keeping her gaze averted. Her voice was very wistful. "It's a nickname, and everyone close to him addresses him that way. I've been calling him Dimka ever since we were little children." Christian's aunt suddenly cleared her throat, snapped her eyes to me, and fell cold all over again. She pointed her thin finger. "I want you to stay away from him," Tasha sneered. "You're too young, and he does not need more pain in his life if your little relationship with him falls apart."

Her words offended me, and I grew angry. "Our relationship will never fall apart, miss. We truly care for each other, and he finds solace and similarity in me. We have a connection. I don't approve of you trying to destroy us, and I also don't approve of you hurting Lissa's feelings and badmouthing her."

I received an eye roll and condescending snort. "Christian deserves a girl who will provide him unconditional love and support regardless of circumstances. What he doesn't deserve is some wench who judges his family and ostracizes him for something out of his control," she spat.

My hands threw themselves up. "Lissa loves him immensely! The reason she treated him so wrongfully was because she thought that he wouldn't want to be with a superficial and spoiled girl who was supposedly like everyone else," I defended my stepsister. "Christian is happy in his courtship with her, and that's all that should matter."

Tasha quieted, however she still appeared unconvinced. She crossed her slender arms over her chest, causing her cleavage to be even more pronounced. I didn't like her possessing a toned, appreciative figure. Did Cesarevich Dimitri used to find her attractive? Did he used to…touch her body and make love to her?

 _Stop it, Rose. Stop it!_

"I'm warning you, Rosemarie. Stay away from Dimka, because if you don't, you will hugely regret it," she darkly threatened, sending me an icy glare as she neglected me in the hallway, seeming to resemble a queen of snow. I stood frozen in place, still trying to comprehend what had just happened and what to do. Tasha was such a horrible woman…

What had Cesarevich Dimitri seen in her?

* * *

 **DPOV**

Rose appeared distracted yet mad when she reentered the main room. Her chestnut-brown eyes were as glossy as mirrors as she marched up to her family and insistently told her father, "Can we please go back to the lodge? I'm ready to leave."

Meanwhile, Tasha sauntered up to me, her ice-blue eyes sinister as she wickedly smirked at an unnerved Rose. She wrapped her hands around my arm. Having an uneasy feeling knotting inside my chest, I got out of her grip and met her gaze. "Tasha, what's going on? Why is Rose acting like that? What did you say to her?" I demanded.

My close friend's expression darkened, and she crossed her arms. Her voice was bitter. "It doesn't matter, Dimka. She's not sick or dead. Stop being so worried," she replied. Completely through with Tasha's behavior, I left her and went to Rose's family, who was forming a concerned circle around her and asking multiple questions.

I tapped Lissa on the shoulder. "What happened?" I lowly questioned.

She whipped her platinum-blond head, sighing. "I don't know, Cesarevich Dimitri. She won't say anything except that she wants to leave right now," she answered. Lissa then leaned closer to me and stood on her tiptoes to whisper, "Maybe you should go talk to her in private. I think this has something to do with her conversation with Tasha."

I stole a small glance at Tasha, who caught me looking at her and turned away. I ran a hand through my hair before saying, "Okay, I will. Thanks." She nodded and stepped aside so I could get to Rose, who seemed to be having a little argument with her father. Rhea and Jill stood a few feet away, merely spectating in curiosity.

When I reached Lord Mazur, I cleared my throat. He stopped talking to Rose and turned around. I nodded in respect. "Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering if I could speak to your daughter for a few minutes? In private?" I politely asked. Rose's father flicked his gaze between us before agreeing. He gave her a comforting kiss then went over to my mother and sisters, who immediately began badgering him about what was going on.

Wrapping my arm around Rose's waist, I led her outside of the palace and into the vegetable garden that was located in the back. Since it was winter, no food was being grown and it was just a vast field of brown soil. "Do you want to tell me what you talked to Tasha about?" I softly asked, stroking her cheek and holding her close.

She was silent for a few moments, the only sound audible being our breaths and heartbeats. Finally, Rose responded. Her words exited as a mumble. "I don't want to talk about it. It's not important." I dragged her over to a bench, sitting us down side by side. Rose turned her head away, darkest brown waves of hair falling over her pretty face.

"Are you sure it's not worth discussing? I think you need to let this all out," I suggested. I knew all too well about keeping what I felt inside for the worst, and it didn't serve anyone well. She had to reveal what had happened and what was swimming in her mind.

Rose sighed and faced me. Her soulful, dark eyes became angry and enflamed. "Lady Ozera threatened me to stay away from you," she growled under her breath. My eyes widened in shock, and she stood up abruptly, beginning to pace like a crazed animal. Her arms began waving around. "I can't believe her—she's so rotten. How could you even be in a relationship with someone like her?" she rambled.

Once I heard that, I froze. "Who told you that?" I slowly wondered.

Rose stopped her pacing. "Lady Ozera." She then placed her hands on her hips and demanded, "Now answer my question: how in the hell could you court her? She's horrible. She wants me out of your life. She wants Lissa out of Christian's life. Please, provide me with some sort of explanation."

I put my face in my hands and sighed. This didn't make any sense. After regaining some composure, I said, "I don't understand, either. Tasha has seriously been a great friend to me all my life. That's why I courted her after her husband died. I realized, though, that I only saw her as a friend, so we ended the relationship. We're still close friends, however I suppose Tasha feels jealous and a little angry since she couldn't be the woman to make me happy."

Out of nowhere, Rose asked as if she were a little child, "Do you love me?"

It caught me by surprise, and I blinked violently before choking out, "What?" She clearly interpreted my reaction the wrong way, and heartbreakingly, a lone tear slid down her cheek as she started to walk away. I rushed over to Rose, grabbing her shoulders to have her face me. My voice was pleading. "I'm sorry, Roza. I didn't mean to respond so rudely."

She wiped her eyes and nodded. Then, confusion filled her features and she questioned, "Did you call me 'Roza'?"

I nodded back. "Yes, it's your name in Russian."

A smile formed on her beautiful face, and she giggled faintly. "It's wonderful; I like it. Maybe I should give you a nickname someday," she commented, a thoughtful look arising.

My eyebrow arched. "Oh really?"

"Of course. Actually, I think I should do it right now. How about…comrade?"

Her choice truly baffled me. I scrunched my face and said, "Why 'comrade'?"

Rose rolled her intoxicatingly brown eyes and shook her head. "You've been such a great friend to me ever since my family came to Russia for your family's annual ball. Therefore, I feel that you have become my comrade, my companion. Is that not so?"

A small smile pulled at my lips. I grasped her hands in mine and interlocked our fingers. "It is very much so, Roza. I will not mind if you call me comrade," I softly complied, inching closer to place a loving kiss on her cheek. I wasn't about ready to confess my love for her, so hopefully my actions succeeded in telling her how I felt.

Rose closed her eyes for a fraction of a heartbeat before she returned the gesture. A light and precious burn of electricity flourished where her lips touched my skin. "Perfect," she replied. "Now you can forever be my comrade."

"Forever and always."

* * *

 **RPOV**

 **January 3** **rd** **, 1686**

 **Mother. My dear, sweet, incredibly missed mother, I wish you were here. The reason I wish so deeply is because I am scared. Today, I met Cesarevich Dimitri's ex-partner, Lady Natasha Ozera, who also happens to be his close friend. She is Christian Ozera's aunt, but unfortunately, she is mean and nasty. She should not even be qualified as a lady.**

 **I fear that she will try to ruin everything she feels threatened by, in order to have things go her way. What if she severs my relationship with him? What if she severs Lissa's relationship with her nephew?**

 **On the bright side, I met Cesarevich Dimitri's family—Czarina Olena, Czarevna Karolina, Czarevna Sonya, Czarevna Viktoria, Czarevich Paul, and Czarevna Zoya. They are all so loving and welcoming, despite what they went through many years ago. I feel like it is not right to tell their business in my journal, but I will say one thing.**

 **Their past was horrible, and I feel sorry that they had to experience said horribleness. I would not wish it on anyone.**

 **Please forgive me for not visiting your grave before the year renewed. I genuinely meant to, however so much occurred, and I didn't get the chance. Don't worry, Mother, I will make sure to do so December of this year. I cross my heart.**

 **Forever and always your little girl,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur (P.S. You will never be dead to me)**

When I finished writing, I noticed that tears had splattered onto the white pages, blotching the ink and smearing my words. Sniffling, I patted the mess as much as I could then closed and locked the journal before hiding it away with the gold key.

It was night outside, for the sky was white and cloudy in the midst of the darkness, dropping tufts of snow onto the Siberian landscape as the moon sat obscured behind its curtain. I was so tired from today's events—I wanted to do nothing more than to have a dreamless sleep and wake up the next morning as innocent and clueless as an infant.

However, when I lay down in the regal bed of the guest room the Belikovs allowed me to stay in until morning, images of Cesarevich Dimitri and Tasha flooded my swirling mind.

It was like I was in some intimate dream watching from afar, and I shattered internally. I saw him carrying her into his bedchamber and setting her down on the floor. I saw them kissing feverishly, their hands roaming each other's body, their hair getting tangled. I saw them removing each other's clothing. I couldn't see Cesarevich Dimitri's bare form clearly, but I had a focused picture of Tasha.

I saw him laying her pale, slender, and smooth body on his bed. I saw him moving on top of her and watched as she dug her nails into him as he kissed and bit and sucked every part of her skin. I saw them begin to make passionate love as they became a union.

Once that specific image arrived, I sat up in bed and tried to pull my hair out, as if that would make everything cease. No such luck. I then jumped out of bed and hastily exited the guest room, entering the dim hallway. My chest was heaving as I stumbled along, trying to clear my head. When I turned a corner, I bumped into someone.

Fortunately, it was Cesarevich Dimitri. His chocolate-brown eyes widened in surprise and concern as he took in my haunted appearance. "Roza, are you all right?" he asked, stepping closer to place his hands on my arms.

The visual of him being intimate with Tasha was still burning in my brain, so I pulled away. Cesarevich Dimitri decided to come closer, but I only continued moving backwards. "Please, I need some space right now," I whispered, keeping my gaze averted.

He stared at me in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to speak about it, okay? I just want to be alone," I firmly said, moving past him so I could resume going about my business. Though, of course, Cesarevich Dimitri caught my arm and brought me back to him.

"It's about Tasha, isn't it?" When I didn't respond, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. I could tell he was growing frustrated. "Rose, how many times do I have to tell you that she's only my friend? I don't understand why you're still upset about this," he exclaimed.

I stomped my foot. "Goddamn it, Dimitri!" He didn't reprimand me for not addressing him by his title. "I'm so bothered because the fact that you and Lady Ozera clearly slept with each other is eating at me. I can't stand it. It makes me sick," I fumed.

"It nauseates me too, Rose. But what's done is done, no matter how much I want to change it. So, let's just move on, all right? I don't want Tasha having this much power over us," he said, drawing me in for an embrace. Instantly, all thoughts of him with her vanished, and I felt like the only jewel in his world with his strong arms wrapped lovingly around me.

"You're right. I should just let all of this go. There's no use holding on to something so insane," I acquiesced.

"You should. She's just poisoned with negative thoughts and feelings. Don't worry, Roza. Nothing's going to happen to us," he reassured.

"You promise?" I lowly clarified.

"I promise."

* * *

 **The annual ball will be occurring soon! Don't worry:)**

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	17. Chapter 17: Pursuits of Happiness

**I would like to apologize for taking 3 weeks to a month in updating. I've been consumed with school, as always, and have been sick for a week now, so that's been keeping me away from my beloved computer. Thanks for the follows and favs! Enjoy this awaited chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

The wintry, cold morning brought a poignant feeling upon me—white, fresh snow was falling to the earth in sheets, and the dark trees were extremely bare, their gnarly branches resembling a witch's claws. Weather like this made me feel dead and hollow, as if I was a ghost lurking within a human form. The Russian children playing outside, laughing and running without a care, couldn't even uplift my spirits.

Why had Mother's demise occurred during this season? It was supposed to be a time of happiness, reunion, and love. However, every time winter arrived, I couldn't help but think of sadness, emptiness, and pain.

I recalled Father advising me to always hold the positive memories close to my heart, but how could I when the negative ones dominated my thoughts? That had been my excuse, and quite naturally, he grew so tired of hearing those words that he had ceased trying to fix me.

For the most part, I did mend myself. Yet, that small voice inside my head, hidden deep within my conscience, whispered: _Why'd she have to leave me? Why?_

I must've stood by the window for a long while, for I no longer had the energy to leave the guest bedchamber, and my appetite was absent, despite its insistent, thunderous growling. My skin had paled and bumped as a freezing wind blew through my thin nightgown. My body temperature had dropped, yet there was no urge to seek warmth…

Out of nowhere, a knock surfaced and I whipped around at the noise. Suspicion heavily coursed through me—it was fairly early for everyone in the palace to be awake, aside from the royal servants. I took a step from the window, alert. Who could it be? What did they want?

The knock came again, louder this time, so I just decided to walk over. When I reached the mahogany door, I grasped the gold knob and opened it…to find Tasha standing before me. Her raven-black hair was perfectly in place, as if she slept standing up. And, her body was clothed in a seductive, midnight-blue nightgown with lace and a low neckline.

Even more on edge, I squeezed the door knob and forced a greeting. "Good morning, Lady Ozera. What are you doing here?" I wondered as politely as possible.

"I could ask you the same thing," she spat back, pushing me aside and entering the guest bedchamber, her hair flying about like a cape.

I slammed the door shut, furious at her rudeness, and stormed at her, crossing my arms over my chest. I had never been audacious or challenging before, but I supposed I was changing. "That was awfully ill-mannered of you to barge in without my permission," I reprimanded her.

Tasha made a degrading noise. "Oh please, I'm a grown woman. I don't need permission from some little girl." Now that I was silent, she sauntered around the room, scrutinizing every detail with her ice-blue eyes. Once they found the bed, she hardened like a stone. The luxurious covers were strewn everywhere. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, pointing a finger. "Was Dimitri with you?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. This woman was incredibly ridiculous. "Lady Ozera, it's not what it seems. What happened was—"

"Shut up!" All of the braveness within me fled. I cowered and averted my gaze as Christian's aunt marched right up to me and glared me directly in the eye. Her voice was reptilian, slithering and hissing as she spoke. "Didn't you remember what I said yesterday? I specifically told you to stay away from Dimitri. What part of that did you not understand?"

Before I could say anything, Cesarevich Dimitri called, "Rose, are you dressed? We're all about to have breakfast in the dining room downstairs." Tasha paled at hearing his voice and froze, trying to think of how she could leave the guest bedchamber unnoticed. Meanwhile, I was thankful for being saved.

I strode to the door and opened it, happy to see Cesarevich Dimitri's tall figure and handsome features. His chocolate-brown eyes sparkled as he gazed down at me. "I'm still in my nightclothes," I informed him. He arched a brow in surprise. "I wasn't…feeling well, but I'll get dressed right now." When I retreated to the closet, his eyes followed me and landed on Tasha, who was still standing there.

Cesarevich Dimitri abruptly came in at the sight of her, countless emotions swirling in his eyes. "Tasha? What on earth are you doing in here?" he demanded, growing unhappy. His eyes then widened once he saw her promiscuous nightgown. "And what are you wearing?"

Immediately, Tasha unfroze, a pleasant and flirtatious smile pulling at her rosy, cupid-bow lips. She strutted to Cesarevich Dimitri, making sure his stare followed the movements of her body and nightgown. All too innocently, she replied, "We were just having a little chat." I shook my head and scoffed, breaking Cesarevich Dimitri out of his trance.

"Are you sure, Tasha? Rose doesn't seem to think so," he argued.

Her ice-blue eyes turned friendly as she swatted a slender hand and chuckled. "She's just grouchy because I wanted to talk to her so early in the morning," she smoothly lied.

Cesarevich Dimitri wasn't convinced. His voice resembled the hardness of concrete. "Tasha, can I speak to you for a few minutes?"

Tasha swallowed while maintaining her smile. "Of course, my fair prince," she agreed. Cesarevich Dimitri sent me one look before following Christian's aunt into the hallway and closing the door behind them.

* * *

 **DPOV**

As soon as we were alone, I grabbed Tasha and slammed her into the dark, red wall, causing the nearby royal portraits to rattle viciously. Stunned and confused, she yelped in surprise before attempting to escape my grip. I tightened my hold on her shoulders, putting my face close to hers. "What the hell is your problem?" I growled.

Her ice-blue eyes, ones that were always fierce yet comforting, appeared unfamiliar and strange. Tasha pursed her lips. "Nothing, Dimka. Now will you please let go of me?" She then grinned seductively and caressed my body with her fingers, tugging me closer, trying to distract me. "Or do you have something else in mind?"

Disgusted, I ripped away from her and growled furiously. This caused her to silence, and she stared at me with wide, crystalline eyes, seeming small against the wall. I ran a hand through my hair and began pacing. "Tasha, I don't understand why you keep acting as if we possess some romantic connection. What we had years ago is over," I began.

She bolted to me and placed a cold hand on my arm. Her voice was soft and soothing. "Dimka, I just don't want anything bad to happen to you anymore," she whispered. As much as I wanted to move away, I leaned into her. She wrapped her limbs around me. "You mean a lot to me, and it worries me that you're falling so deeply for Rosemarie. You've only known her for a while, so how can you be sure she's returning your affections? She's probably using you."

I broke our embrace, angered. My eyes pierced Tasha's startled gaze. "Don't you dare say that about her," I bristled. "You have no idea what she's like. She would never be with me for power and fortune. She has a pure soul, in every sense of the word." Right when her mouth opened, I harshly added, "And she told me that you commanded her to leave me alone."

Once she heard that, my close friend's eyes chilled. Her slender body tensed, and her skin turned a light shade of red. "Of course I ordered that wench to stay away from you!" she shouted. My fists clenched. "She doesn't deserve to be with you. _I_ do. _I_ should be the one you want to dance with at the annual ball. _I_ should be the one you want to marry. _I_ should be the one to bear your children. _I_ should be the one you want to hold at night. And _I_ should be the one to lay beside you in death!"

It was then that I realized how obsessed Tasha was, how this fantasy of us together was engraved in her head so permanently. Quite naturally, it frightened me. Yet, I also felt pity towards her. She had been such a great friend and woman who, unfortunately, endured grueling trials and tribulations, always finding herself short of happiness.

All she wanted was to experience true love again...but her dream would never be fulfilled because I was the missing piece she couldn't have.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I'm not in love with you, Tasha. I really am," I said. She was frozen after her flurry of words, so I came closer and leaned down. My proximity, as usual, made her melt. "However, I love you enough to do this," I whispered. My lips pressed to her pale cheek and placed a soft kiss. She gasped. When I pulled back, I met her ice-blue gaze. "May good things come your way."

Giving her one, last look, I walked to the guest bedchamber Rose was staying in. Once I reached the door, my hand gripped the gold knob. I didn't know why I was so hesitant to leave. Was I waiting for Tasha to come running over? Was I waiting for her to say something? I seriously hoped she didn't interpret everything the wrong way, but if she did, then it was out of my control. Right?

 _Quit warring with yourself, Dimitri. It's over. There's nothing else you can do._

Trusting my conscience with all that I had, I opened the door and went inside.

* * *

 **NPOV**

Who would've suspected that Dimitri Belikov, my undeniable love and wonderful companion, was going to shatter my heart? As much as I yearned for him, he was a real bastard for choosing Rosemarie over me. I couldn't fathom why he wanted some seventeen-year-old English girl, a wench more precisely, to be his jewel.

Rosemarie Mazur was an innocent creature. She didn't know what love was. She didn't know what life was. When Dimitri had described her soul as pure, it made perfect sense. Was I seriously the only one who viewed her as a waste of time?

Those two believed that this entire situation was dead, but they were immensely wrong. I wasn't finished with them in the slightest. I had to close the gaping hole in my heart, the hole where Dimitri belonged. If they were too blind to see it, how horrible for them.

I, Natasha Ozera, was going to get my happily ever after.

* * *

 **RPOV**

I jumped away from the door as Cesarevich Dimitri entered, fluidly going over to the tousled bed to straighten its lost, regal appearance. I didn't want him to know I had been eavesdropping, but knowing him, he most likely had a clue. When the mahogany door closed, he said in a tired, emotion-filled voice, "I finished talking to Tasha."

I stopped my task and looked up at Cesarevich Dimitri. His intense, chocolate-brown gaze seemed clouded and stormy. His olive-toned, sculpted face appeared hollow and worn. Impulsively, I rushed over to him and placed my hand on his cheek. He leaned into my touch. "What happened?" I softly asked.

He was silent for several moments before answering, "I confronted her about what she's been doing, and she tried to divert the subject, but quickly gave up. She began her defense by claiming that she only wanted what was best for me after everything that occurred in my past, but when I challenged her further, Tasha confessed that she really hated how I'm developing feelings for you instead of her."

I shook my head and sighed. "She's a troubled lady, comrade. Very, very troubled," I commented after.

Cesarevich Dimitri moved away from me, pacing around the room. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor. "That's true, but that doesn't make her a bad person, Roza," he reasoned. "I've known her all my life, and she's a good woman. I'm certain to the very depths of my heart. And, not being able to make her happy the way she wishes pains me. It's seriously consuming her, and I feel sorry…"

Even though I understood his perspective on the matter, it frustrated me. How could he not see that it was too late for Tasha to reverse all that she's thought, felt, and done? She couldn't be saved at this point, and he needed to realize that it wasn't his fault.

I walked to him, wrapping my arms around his lean waist and leaning my head against his muscular back once I reached him. "Comrade, she's a mature woman. Her actions are not your responsibility. It's okay," I told wisely.

"It's not that easy, Roza. Tasha and I've been through a lot of things—I can't just forget about what happened. Don't get me wrong, you mean way more to me than her, but she's still a part of my life, and that can't be denied," he replied. I nodded fairly reluctantly and released him. Cesarevich Dimitri turned around and smiled, stroking my cheek. "Lighten up, Rose. We'll come out fine."

My eyes closed. "Even with a few bruises, cuts, and scars?"

"Even with those injuries. Trust me." I opened my eyes, and he gestured to the door. "Let's go eat breakfast. Our families have been waiting for a long time." We held hands and interlaced our fingers, leaving the guest bedchamber. The hallway was illuminated with red-yellow candlelight, which brightened the look of the previous Russian monarch portraits. Pretty soon, we descended the ornate, gold staircase.

The dining room was full of people and food. Everyone was present, except for Tasha, so I supposed that was great. Czarina Olena spotted us standing in the doorway and waved us over, her dark brown eyes sparkling under the chandelier light. "There you two are! Sit down and eat. The food's almost gone," she said.

We obeyed. Cesarevich Dimitri sat next to Czarevna Karolina, who was cradling a slumbering Zoya. I sat in between Lissa and Jill, who immediately landed their jade-green gazes on me. "What took you so long?" wondered Lissa. "We've been sitting here for a long time without the two of you." Jill nodded in agreement, her eyes extremely insistent.

"Cesarevich Dimitri and I were talking to Lady Ozera," I whispered to them. Instantly, their petite bodies stiffened, silence gripping their throats. Not wanting to say anything else, I grabbed an encrusted fork and began eating some blini. Cesarevich Dimitri's family eyed me in curiosity before abandoning the matter. Father's scrutiny was begging him to speak, however he decided not to at this moment.

Unlike everyone else, Rhea cleared her throat and wiped her mouth with a silk napkin. "Are you all right, Rosemarie? You seem a little disturbed," she questioned. To an unsuspecting person, it seemed as if she genuinely cared. However, I knew my stepmother, and she only did something like this for exposure.

I stopped eating. All stares turned to me, and I felt the weight of their penetrating eyes. Sweat beaded on my chest, and I twitched slightly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine," I lied fluidly. "There's no need for any concern." My eyes flicked to Cesarevich Dimitri, who gave me the smallest nod. I returned the gesture inconspicuously and resumed eating.

Rhea narrowed her piercing gaze. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" she pressed.

"Yes, madam." She opened her mouth to speak, yet Father placed his hand on her arm and silenced her. I was grateful for this, and the whole table fell soundless. After we finished breakfast, Czarina Olena made an announcement before everyone left the dining room.

Her dark brown eyes were warm as she regarded my family. "Thank you so much for having Sunday brunch with us and staying overnight. I deeply appreciate it, and I can't wait to see you again at our annual ball. You were all such lovely guests."

Father bowed and grinned. "It was a pleasure, your majesty. We thank you again for the gracious invite." We reverberated similar words and chatted with the Belikovs a few more minutes before we were escorted to a readied carriage parked at the palace's front entrance.

When we reached the outside, the crisp air quenched my senses. My family loaded everything into the mode of transportation while I stood aside and enjoyed nature. Cesarevich Dimitri came beside me, pulling me into a warm embrace. "Remember Roza, we'll be okay," he whispered in my ear. "Don't worry."

I nodded. "The same goes to you. I hope Lady Ozera considers your words and keeps her distance." He froze at hearing that, but he quickly agreed and kissed my cheek.

"The ball's January 9th, which is in five more days. Don't forget," Cesarevich Dimitri reminded. I thanked him, kissing him back and hurrying to my family. Once I got inside the carriage, the coachmen forced the horses to move, and I watched my magnificent prince out of the window as we rolled away.

He casted me a smile and waved.

* * *

 **NPOV**

My decision was perfectly set in stone.

For the last sixty minutes, I sat in my assigned bedchamber when visiting the Belikovs, pondering and plotting what to do from here on out. As expected, I only drew up blanks and ran into dead ends. However, once enough thought had coursed through my brain, I created a wonderful plan.

Making sure no one could hear my movements, I tiptoed up the elaborate staircase, the gold rail icy underneath my fingertips. A black cloak hid me from witnesses—even though the color was stark in the morning light, I could still remain unidentified if spotted. I continued climbing until I reached the highest floor, immediately rushing to the place where Dimitri spent a lot of his alone time: his father's old study.

I turned the knob and opened the door, grateful that it was unlocked. Since no one came here and Dimitri was busy with putrid Rose and her family, I left the door unlocked and rummaged for some paper, quill, and ink. When I found what I wanted, I sat in the plush seat and furiously wrote a letter.

 **I would never ask anything so demanding from someone like you, but I am desperate and need your help. Meet me at the tavern on Romanov Street tomorrow night at ten o'clock. Confident that you will attend, I will bring you significant payment in currency and jewels. The agenda is to discuss what I have in store and who it involves.**

 **Until then,**

 **N**

Quickly, I folded the paper and put everything back in place. After organizing a few extra things, I exited the room and closed the door, taking another route along a secluded hallway and set of stairs to the palace's back entrance.

Once I got outside, I walked off the property and set on a long way to the recipient, a devious grin tugging at my lips as I headed into town for some money. My heart pounded while my body twitched with anticipation.

Happiness—sweet, precious, glorious happiness—, here I come.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 18: Rising Darkness

**Here's the next chapter! Enjoy reading :)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **DPOV**

After the carriage disappeared from view, I walked back to the palace. It was no longer morning, and temperature was warmer than before. However, the sky remained cloudy and gray, and fresh, white snow fell to the cold ground. My family was waiting in the main hall, chatting as the royal staff tidied the dining room.

When I reached them, my mother strolled up to me, reaching up her fingers to flick away snowflakes stuck in my hair and on my suit jacket. While she did this, I asked her in Russian, "Have you seen Tasha since I've been outside? It's been a while since she missed breakfast." Even though she wasn't a high priority in my life anymore, I still had concerns for Tasha. Our history was long, and no matter what happened, I would continue to watch out for her.

My mother's dark brown eyes met mine, innocent. "No, Dimka. I haven't," she replied back in Russian. Her hands then went to straightening my hair and attire. "Do you have any idea why she hasn't been present?" she questioned. Her tone was curious, but it also sounded demanding. Immediately, my mind traveled to the private conversation I'd had with Tasha, where I had basically broken her heart. Rose had told me that she might not consider my words and leave me be, and what if Tasha hadn't? What if…

"Hey, мать, do you need any help preparing the annual ball this year?" Viktoria wondered, coming up to us. When our mother didn't respond, her gaze flicked to me, eyes swimming with a thousand inquisitions. "Dimka, is everything all right? What's wrong?" Those words caught the attention of my older sisters—Karolina and Sonya came instantaneously.

I internally groaned as Karolina observed me, rocking a pacified Zoya in her arms while Paul stood beside her. "Why's Vika so worried?" Sonya nodded in agreement, placing her hands over he swollen stomach. I shook my head, wanting to leave. As much as I appreciated my siblings monitoring my wellbeing, there were times when I just preferred handling situations alone. If need be, I would reach for help, which I was doing with our mother. I hadn't asked for theirs.

"She thinks something's askew because мать was waiting for me to answer her question," I explained. Before they could ask anything else, I faced our mother and leaned down to whisper, "I need to be alone for a while, okay? Please tell them not to bother me, and that I'll talk to everyone later." She nodded and was left to face my confused sisters as I walked away.

I ascended the gold, ornate staircase two steps at a time. I didn't understand why I was in such a hurry, but something inside me screamed that things were happening. Once I reached the highest floor, I ran to my father's old study and urged the wooden door open. When I entered the dark room, I realized that the desk was too organized, and the leather chair seemed positioned differently from when I last sat in it.

Someone had been in here.

Stalking closer, I went to the desk and opened all of the drawers. In the one that held the supplies, I noticed that there was less paper and ink. Apparently, that same person had been writing. What for, I had no clue. Narrowing my gaze, I scrutinized the area even harder—it was almost too difficult to do—until I discovered a strand of hair I had overlooked on the desk. I picked it up carefully and held it close to my face.

Despite the dim lighting, I could tell that it was very dark. Raven-black to be exact. My blood boiled as I realized that Tasha had snuck in here to write something while I was eating breakfast with my and Rose's family. Angry, I threw the hair and ran a hand through my own, pacing.

Obviously, Tasha must've been unhappy about our talk earlier, otherwise she wouldn't have disappeared. She also wrote a letter to someone and took it with her; it didn't make sense for her to hide it in the study. The only thing missing was the recipient and her intentions. At this thought, my body stilled and chilled.

Only the Lord knew what Tasha was bound to commit. Though it pained me to admit it, that woman was poisoned. Years of constantly having the odds out of her favor blackened her mind and heart. She was at a breaking point, and there was no chance of her turning back. Even I couldn't save her, despite the lies I told myself. I was certain Natasha Ozera would do anything to have her way for once.

Or forever...

* * *

 **RPOV**

Father and Rhea were arguing. It had started when we arrived at the lodge room. He had immediately went to the bedchamber they shared, strangely demanding to be alone, even though he was in a pleasant mood on the ride back. Lissa, Jill, and I had respected his wishes, nonetheless, while my stepmother glared at the closed, mahogany door for several minutes before entering and shutting it behind her.

I now stood with my stepsisters, who were huddled together, their jade-green eyes wide and afraid and moist with tears. I wanted to comfort them, but I was too curious and confused. I eavesdropped instead.

For a while, they were talking lowly, so I couldn't decipher a word. After some time passed, the volume intensified, and their loud, harsh voices were clear through the walls. "Get out of my way, Rhea," Father ordered. He sounded so angry…I looked at Lissa and Jill, sending them a question through my gaze. They shrugged their shoulders, just as clueless as I was. After a moment, Father reiterated more fiercely, "Get out of my way. I'm serious."

"Not until you explain this abrupt departure," Rhea demanded. I could almost picture her in front of the door, blocking his path with all the power she possessed. Also, I imagined Father with his fists clenched, body tensed, and expression immensely dark.

"I don't have to explain anything to you. Now, step aside." What on earth was going on? Why was Father so upset, and why did he want to leave? Why was Rhea pestering him to confess something? Lissa and Jill decided to move closer to me—it was as if they were expecting an explosion and wanted me to be their protection. I grabbed their hands and squeezed them. They squeezed back.

"How dare you! I'm your wife, Ibrahim. I deserve—"

"You deserve nothing, you belittling, inconsiderate, pompous bitch!" My stepsisters and I flinched. "You promised me you'd stop treating Rosemarie like rubbish, but you did it anyway. There's no chance I'm allowing this any longer—I've had enough!" Father menacingly yelled.

Once that was said, Lissa and Jill broke into sobs, and I wrapped my arms around their slender bodies, soothing them. A lone tear traveled down my cheek and splattered onto the hardwood floor. I couldn't believe what we had heard, and apparently, Rhea couldn't either.

Her voice was nearly incomprehensible. "What are you saying, Ibrahim?"

Father audibly sighed. He sounded worn, finished. "I think you know, Rhea." Suddenly, a sharp noise sounded, and I froze as I realized that she slapped him. Tears left my eyes harder, and all I wanted to do was run away with Lissa and Jill. However, I knew we couldn't. We had to stay put and learn about the problem…and its consequences.

The bedchamber doorknob turned, and Father exited the room without my stepmother. His tanned cheek was turning red, but as soon as his chestnut-brown eyes landed on me, the color fled his face. His lip trembled, as if he was scared. "Did you hear…everything?" he slowly asked.

I pulled away from my stepsisters, wiping my eyes on my dress sleeve. "No, not everything," I weakly answered. Father stepped forward, but I only moved back, which made him stop in pain. "Please, don't hug me. I want to know what happened," I told him. He hesitated for a few seconds before nodding and directing me to sit on the couch.

Lissa and Jill left the room to retrieve handkerchiefs. Father watched me in silence as I continued composing myself. It felt weird with his eyes on me, but I ignored him as best as I could until I felt stable. Father took a deep breath, clasping his large hands. "Clearly, Rhea and I were fighting," he began.

I sniffled. "Why?" He stared off into the distance, taking in the Russian portraits, polished furniture, elaborate drapes, and delicate accessories. I knew he was attempting to avoid the subject, so I gently nudged his side and repeated, "Why?" It helped him refocus.

Father opened his mouth then closed it. He must've decided to be completely straightforward, for he revealed, "The reason I wanted to be alone, Rosemarie, was because I wanted to reminisce in peace. I thought of your mother on the ride back, and to relive some memories, I took out a picture of her that I brought. Rhea got tired of waiting, so she barged in, and I swiftly hid it. It made her suspicious, and she demanded to know what I was doing."

My breath caught in my throat. I didn't know what to say.

Father grew mad then calmed as he spoke. "Not ready to confess, I lied to Rhea. She didn't believe me, quite naturally, and found your mother's picture in my suitcase. She grew furious and commanded me to explain. I simply told her that I missed her, and Rhea told me that I couldn't change the past and had to continue without Janine. She told me that _she_ was my wife now, and it made me angry. I could never forget your mother. She means the world to me."

 _She means the world to me, too,_ my conscience said.

"I tried to leave, but Rhea prevented me from doing so."

"I heard the rest of the argument from that point on," I informed. Father nodded and relaxed into the couch. He seemed grateful for not having to finish talking about this.

All this time, I had believed my father genuinely loved Rhea while I remained loyal to Mother. I supposed I was wrong. It made me happy knowing that I was never really alone; however, I wasn't happy knowing that our new family was broken beyond repair.

Lissa and Jill reentered the main section and came to sit with Father and me. Lissa settled on my right side while Jill settled on the right side of Lissa. I faced my platinum-blond haired stepsister and wondered, "What took you two so long?"

Lissa replied, "Our makeup and faces were ruined from crying, so we had to wash that off. Also, our dresses somehow got all wet with tears, so we changed into new ones." Her jade-green eyes then widened. "Oh! I almost didn't remember." She lifted her hand and opened it. "Do you or your father need a handkerchief?"

I shook my head. "No, we're fine." She nodded and put them away. I turned my head to look at Father, who noticed me gazing at him and met my stare. I chewed on my lip as I fiddled with my fingers. I didn't want to ask this question, but we all needed to know the answer. After a moment, I finally inquired, "What now?"

Lissa and Jill leaned forward to look at Father as well, and he pondered to himself for a few seconds before shrugging and sighing. To my surprise, he placed his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands. His dark eyes closed. "I don't know, Kizim. I don't know," he responded in helpless defeat.

All of a sudden, Rhea burst the bedchamber door open and stormed over to us. She was clad in a fine dress, expensive jewelry, heeled boots, and a large coat and hat. Her eyes crackled like an electrical fire as she clutched luggage in her pale hands. "Unlike you, Ibrahim, I know what I'm doing. I'm leaving," Rhea hissed. "Vasilisa, Jillian. I have your belongings. Let's go."

"What!" they shrieked. In a simultaneous panic, my stepsisters rushed to their mother and gripped her arms as they tried to reason with her. "Please, Mother. You can't do this to us! We want to stay with Rose and our stepfather," Lissa pleaded like a little girl, nearly on the edge of sobbing.

Jill desperately added, "Maybe we can work everything out? Perhaps you jumped to conclusions?" At that, Rhea darkened and ripped away from her daughters, causing them to jerk backwards in fear. I immediately moved them to a safer place before their mother did something terrible.

"How dare you speak to me that way! I didn't 'jump to conclusions', Jillian." She pointed a cruel finger at Father. "Ibrahim obviously doesn't love me, and if he doesn't love me, then he also doesn't love either of you. He was pretending this entire time." Lissa choked on a cry while a tear slid down Jill's cheek. I held them closer, furious at Rhea. She had some nerve behaving in such a fashion. It made me abhor her even more.

Father marched forward, his body tense. "Leave our daughters out of this, Rhea. I thought I wanted to marry you out of love, yet I realized that I was only doing it to force myself to move forward with my life. But, you must believe this: I care about you. And, I care about Vasilisa and Jillian too. Running away won't fix anything, and I'm sure that you're previous husband won't take you back," he bristled, grinding his teeth as his hands curled into fists.

My stepmother seethed, "How can I possibly believe that pile of horse manure if all you've done is lie to me, Ibrahim? Also, don't you _ever_ talk about my children's father. I never said I was going to him. I just need to be away from _you_ right now." Rhea settled her putrid gaze on her daughters. In a compelling voice, she ordered, "Vasilisa, Jillian, I'm only going to say this one more time. Let's go."

My stepsisters shook their heads. "Please, Mother…" both of them sadly begged.

She threw their luggage, which banged on the hardwood floor and almost collided with a fragile object. All of us jumped, excluding Father. "Rhea, you better not leave this place," he threatened. "You'll seriously regret it."

"What are you going to do about it, Ibrahim?" she taunted. There was no answer. Rhea balanced her leather luggage on her arm in order to grip the doorknob. "That's what I thought."

Without another word, she opened the door and stormed out, slamming it behind her.

* * *

 **January 5** **th** **, 1686**

 **NPOV**

A chair screeched against the floor and heavy footsteps sounded before the secret window opened, and chocolate-brown eyes peered at me. Recognition filled his gaze, and he unlocked the wooden door of the tavern's back room to allow my entrance. I quickly glanced behind me before going inside.

It was dimly lit—only a few lamps hung in the corners, accompanied by some stray candlesticks. I sat in the empty chair on the other side of the table. As I got comfortable, the man locked the door then joined me. A sinister smile tugged at his sharp features. "It's lovely seeing you again, Natasha," Czar Aleksandr eagerly greeted in a heavy Russian accent.

"Likewise, your majesty. I appreciate you coming here to help me. I hope this doesn't destroy your reputation, if that's possible," I returned. Dimitri's father was a cruel ruler, so of course, I reached out to him to get what I wanted accomplished. However, if this was all discovered, his image could be ruined even more.

He made a harsh noise and coldly chuckled. "Believe me, Natasha. My reputation can't get any worse." I supposed he was right. He had outright tortured his people by imprisoning, starving, and killing them. What's more terrible than that?

Wanting to waste no time, I deadpanned, "Did you receive my letter?"

Czar Aleksandr's eyebrow arched. His smile hadn't dropped. "Getting to the point, I like it." The candlelight caught his medium-brown hair, giving it streaks of gold. I almost felt like I was talking to a twisted version of Dimitri. "Now to answer your question, yes. And I'm excitedly curious as to what you have in store."

I put on my own smile. "Excellent." I then leaned forward and began telling him my plan while he listened intensely and calculated every aspect. After everything was explained and complete understanding was achieved, I reached within my cloak and pulled out a large sack of gems and currency. I slid it across the table. "Here's your payment."

Dimitri's father shook his head. "Natasha, you don't need to pay me," he modestly refused. He pushed it back to me, yet I only slid it to him again. Czar Aleksandr's gaze darkened. "I'm fine. Really."

I crossed my arms. "Take it, your majesty. This much of a favor can't go without me giving you anything in return." He opened his mouth, but I interrupted, "And you're receiving the payment now because I trust that you will do your job and do it successfully. If you end up failing, so be it. I am a Lady."

He powerfully stared at me for several seconds before huffing and accepting the gems and currency in evident reluctance. Czar Aleksandr shoved the sack into his large, mundane jacket. It was weird seeing him in common clothes; he had used to be lavishly dressed, and he had used to flaunt it. Yet, after his family rejected him, he'd had to blend in. I was actually kind of surprised that no one had noticed him before. "Don't worry, Natasha. I won't fail. I've spent years of my life doing terrible, terrible things," he confidently reassured.

I smiled knowingly at him. "I know, your majesty, and I have tremendous faith. Once Rosemarie is vanquished, we _will_ be happy again."

* * *

 **APOV**

I held the quill in my hand, staring at the blank page. It had been unmarked for so long that its whiteness was beginning to blind me. I sighed and reached over for my almost empty bottle of whiskey. Bringing the drink to my lips, I swallowed the rest. "Adrian, what did I tell you about heavily consuming alcohol?" reprimanded my wife, Princess Sydney Ivashkov.

Turning around on my chair, I met her hazel-gold gaze. "You told me not to, love. But, I'm working on it. I can't just stop when I've been drinking for a long time," I reasoned. She nodded then moved to stand beside my sitting frame. Sydney wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders and leaned over to get a closer look at what I was doing.

"Are you trying to write?" she asked.

"Yes, however I'm not doing so well."

"I know, Adrian. I can see for myself that the paper's blank." Sydney decided to sit on my lap, which I had no problem with. She furrowed her brows, wondering, "Who are you writing to?"

The answer came immediately. "Rosemarie and her family."

Her pretty face brightened. "That's nice! You should tell them that we're happily married…Oh! And, we're going to attend The Belikov's annual ball in a few days, which we should leave for tomorrow. It takes a while getting to Russia," Sydney expertly advised.

I agreed, "Sounds great, sweetheart." With her ideas fresh in my mind, I pressed the quill's point to the page and wrote:

 **Dear Rosemarie Mazur and family,**

 **I would like to inform you all that Sydney and I have enjoyed our marriage over the last month. We also want to let you know that we are also coming to The Belikov's annual ball, which your friends might be attending as well. We hope you are all faring nicely, and I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Happy New Year and God bless you.**

 **From,**

 **Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney Ivashkov**

My wife read over the short letter before approving, "It's good to go."

"Great! Now give this to a messenger and hurry back," I told her as she started to leave the room. "We need to pack."

* * *

 **Now you know who's collaborating with Tasha, but the crime will remain a mystery...**

 **Annual ball is coming soon. Stay tuned! :)**

 **Current readers, don't forget to review. It's almost past 100.**

 **New readers, please follow, fav, and review if you like the story. Thanks!**


	19. Chapter 19: Love Will Prevail

**To make up for taking a long time to update (I blame school), here's a much longer chapter. I hope you all enjoy reading!:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **January 6th, 1686**

 **DPOV**

The ballroom was nicely coming together. It was early afternoon, and event planners were bumbling throughout the majestic room, making sure that everything was in place for my family's annual ball. I could honestly say that I looked forward to this every year—I took joy in reuniting with people I hadn't seen in a while and meeting wonderful maidens from all over the world.

A small woman in a sophisticated dress came up to me, a notebook and quill clutched in her aging hands. She had graying, polished hair tied into a tight bun, and her eyes darted anxiously. "We're making significant progress, your excellency, but I'm not certain if we'll finish in time," she swiftly began in Russian.

I surveyed the area, taking in the exquisitely clean, marble floors; silver chairs neatly positioned at round tables covered with pure white tablecloths and adorned with wintry centerpieces; light drapes against the commodious, glass windows; an open dance floor; crystal chandeliers; and, appointed professional musicians. All seemed perfect. What could this lady possibly be talking about?

"I don't see any issues," I replied in Russian. "The setup is correct, and the last time I checked, we're expecting five hundred guests who have already reserved their seating." The event planner flipped through her notebook to give me confirmation on the guest list and other important details.

Her dark eyes were diligent as she scanned everything, her newly put on spectacles gleaming under the sparkling light. "The menu has been given to the chefs, and they're starting food preparations. The furniture has been imported and is all set in place. The decorations have been made and are placed around the ballroom. The musicians are here and have been given pay; they're practicing. All the guests have a seat…Hmm. I suppose there really aren't any issues," she finally concluded in Russian, her slightly wrinkled face looking relieved.

I wanted to roll my eyes at her overreaction, but I nodded politely and offered a small smile. "See, I knew there was no reason to be worried."

The head event planner removed her spectacles and craned her head to give me an apologetic look. She said, "Please forgive me for wasting your precious time, your excellency. I shouldn't have gotten so unnecessarily anxious."

I placed a hand on her little shoulder. "You did nothing wrong. You're doing your job very well, and I couldn't ask for more," I sincerely complimented.

"Thank you so much, your excellency," she replied with a warm smile. I adored seeing the royal staff happy—they deserved to be for making everything perfect for my family. Her smile then faltered, and her expression darkened. "You're far better than your father ever was, Cesarevich Dimitri," she lowly told me. "That man was quite a monster."

Those words instantly ruined my pleasant mood as flashbacks of abuse and pain and fear stormed inside my head. My fists clenched and I started grinding my teeth. "Don't you _ever_ speak about my father, do you understand me? I don't want to hear _any_ of it," I growled at her, causing her to jerk away with wide eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry…I shouldn't have said such things. It will never happen again, your imperial highness," she stammered before hurrying off to attend to the annual ball preparations. I released an agitated breath once the head event planner was gone and ran a hand through my neat hair.

Why couldn't people just forget about the past? Why did they always have to talk about my father? He was gone and out of Russian lives; the country shouldn't even be concerned anymore. I had gotten rid of him.

I hoped.

No. My father couldn't possibly be lurking around, right? I had made it extremely clear that he was banned from the royal palace, but that technically didn't include all of Russia. What if he was indeed still in the country, waiting to encounter my family again? Waiting to harm us and destroy us once and for all…

"Dimka." I jerked around and found Karolina standing behind me. She appeared very beautiful in a rich, purple gown that ruffled and fell to the floor. A lavish tiara sat in her braided, brown hair. However, it all rivaled her scrutinizing, dark, brown eyes. "What's the matter?" my eldest sister questioned in Russian, resting a comforting hand on my upper arm.

Should I tell her that I was stressing over the chance that our father could still be near? I wanted to, but what if that only caused more problems?

"Dimka, whatever you're thinking, just tell me already," Karolina pressed, clearly seeing right through me. My goodness, it was frightening how she knew me so well. I sighed then opened my mouth, only to get interrupted by Sonya, who was waddling over to us, her hands laying on her swollen stomach.

She was slightly out of breath from the walking, and Karolina immediately tended to our pregnant sister. "Sonya, what on earth are you doing?" she demanded in Russian, placing her hand on her belly. "You shouldn't be wearing yourself out when carrying a child. It will negatively affect your health," she chastised.

Sonya sent an annoyed look. "Will you quit fretting? I'm absolutely fine. I'm not doing anything strenuous, Karolina," she spat back in Russian, ripping away from her. Sonya finally took the decorated ballroom into account, gazing in awe and approval. "It looks amazing," she breathed. "I can't wait for the night of the ball. It's going to be so grand."

Karolina glared at Sonya before focusing her attention back on me. Dread coursed through my body as she gave me an expectant, unwavering look. "Dimka, I'm still waiting for an answer. I'm not leaving until I get one," she told me. I closed my eyes for a second before opening them, and Sonya was now staring at me.

"What's going on?" she asked, her dark brows furrowed in curiosity.

I carefully answered, "I was talking to the head event planner about the details. She was skeptical that all would be finished in time for the ball, but we went over everything, and she became relieved once she saw that nothing was askew. She apologized for taking up my time, and I forgave her. Then, she suddenly told me that I was better than отец and he was a monster."

I braced myself for what was to come, but all they did was stiffen like cement under the sun and remained silent. Both of their eyes were hard and immensely dark. I began wishing I hadn't told them, and the regret took over because I reached forward, saying, "Сёстры…"

"It's fine, Dimka," Karolina brusquely dismissed, raising her hand. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, suddenly seeming sluggish. "I need to go check on Paul and Zoya. It's been about three hours since I've seen them," she said. What she needed to do brought to mind something I had forgotten once I'd began focusing on the ball preparations.

As my eldest sister turned around, I grabbed her shoulder. "Wait, Karolina." One of her brown brows arched. "Have you…heard anything about Tasha? It's been a couple days, and she hasn't returned yet," I quietly told her, not wanting anyone else to hear.

Sonya's eyes widened. Her mouth nearly fell open. "Tasha disappeared?" she asked in disbelief.

I nodded.

Karolina mirrored Sonya's actions. "That's strange. Every time she visits, she always informs us when she's planning on departing. Why didn't she do it this time?" Worry crept onto her face. "Oh my goodness, did someone take her?"

"No one kidnapped Tasha," I strongly said. "She left the palace on purpose. I found out that she snuck into отец's study and wrote a letter—a strand of her hair was on the desk."

Sonya absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. "How odd…"

"Very odd, indeed," Karolina agreed. She gazed at me and crossed her arms. "Who do you think the letter was for, Dimka?"

All of this was beginning to give me a headache, and as much as I wanted to continue this conversation, I couldn't. There were more important things I needed to do; I didn't need to be driving myself into a ditch over this matter.

"I don't know," I huffed, running a hand through my hair. I then tried to calm myself down. "Look, I have other issues to attend to, so we can discuss this later, okay?" Karolina and Sonya reluctantly nodded. I kissed their cheeks and told them to keep monitoring the progress on the ball preparations before retreating.

When I almost exited the ballroom, Karolina called, "Where are you going?"

I turned around and mouthed, _I'm going to see Rose_. I then faced my back towards her and continued walking before I could see her response.

* * *

 **RPOV**

Father, Lissa, Jill, and I reentered the lodge room after eating an authentic, Russian brunch in the café downstairs. All of our bellies were tremendously full, even though Father had eaten the largest amount of food. Nonetheless, the little outing had been refreshing after what we had experienced with Rhea the previous night, and I was grateful that I was the one who had proposed the idea.

We plopped onto the vintage couch, groaning in satisfaction. Lissa rested her platinum-blond head against the cushion, her jade-green eyes hidden underneath her pale eyelids. "That was incredibly yummy," she commented, a smile pulling at her pink lips. Her brightness then dimmed, and a frown took over. "I wish Mother was there…"

Father walked to Lissa and squatted before her, staring her down with his fierce, chestnut-brown gaze. "Vasilisa, your mother left, and I'm afraid you're going to have to accept that," he strongly told her. My stepsister averted her gaze and didn't respond. Father took a deep breath before saying, "I know this will sound harsh, but I never romantically loved Rhea. She only felt like a good friend to me."

Jill leaned forward, her eyes that she shared with Lissa narrowed. "Why did you even marry her in the first place? You probably broke her heart," she merely wondered, but her tone and volume was harsh and loud once she finished speaking. I didn't like where this was headed, but I kept myself silent until I felt talking would be appropriate.

Father visibly cringed, but he managed to answer. "I'm certain I did, but I also broke my own," he softly said. Jill was quieted by confusion. Lissa intently stared at him. "As you both most likely know, Rosemarie's mother, Janine Mazur, died almost four years ago from a tragic accident. It left me and your stepsister absolutely devastated," he said with overwhelming emotion.

Depressing, horrible memories exploded in my brain, and I felt my eyes watering with tears. Somehow, I fought the urge to cry.

"About three years after, I finally decided to get myself together. I knew that Rosemarie's mother would've wanted me to live a good life for her, so I sought to do just that. I had many unsuccessful attempts, so I believed that getting married again would truly bring me happiness," he continued.

Jill was stunned into silence, so Lissa spoke after she gathered her composure for a few seconds. "So you began courting our mother?" she accurately guessed.

Father nodded. "Exactly. I found her to be a beautiful woman, both inside and out. She was such a radiant, heavenly person, despite what your family endured," he answered, becoming sincere. It helped soften the edge Jill and Lissa possessed. "We opened up to each other and formed a nice friendship. Time started passing as I kept telling myself that I needed to marry your mother in order to stop grieving. To stop dwelling in the painful past. So, after a few months, I proposed and she said yes."

"But you never actually got over your first wife," Jill stated.

"That's correct. I realized that my love wasn't growing for Rhea. It was growing for Janine. For so long, I believed that everything would work out because I cared about your mother enough to make the marriage last. I was entirely wrong," Father finished, moving away from Lissa and shaking his dark head. He then buried his tanned face in his large hands. "And now, we're in this putrid mess."

I was about to get up and comfort Father when, surprisingly, Lissa and Jill beat me to it. They went over to where he was sitting in a chair and wrapped their arms around him. He quickly looked up and appeared shocked—he was as frozen as a statue. "The future will be better. I guarantee it," Lissa whispered in his ear.

Jill rubbed his back. "We don't hate you for doing what you thought was right. You're only human, and we all make a variety of mistakes," she maturely added. It took a while for Father to move, but he eventually did and embraced them in return.

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'm so grateful to have stepdaughters like you two," he told them. "You girls are amazing." I couldn't take the sentiment anymore and joined in, hugging everyone with all my strength. It was such a lovely moment, and I felt better knowing that we had all the explanations we wanted. Father's argument with Rhea made much more sense.

I now understood why he had married her when I seemed like the only one who saw her haughtiness and cruelty, which wasn't entirely her fault, now that I thought about it. It wasn't hard for a person to become spoiled and corrupted when born into nobility.

He had only been trying to make life better for himself, and for me, but it ended up having the opposite effect, and that was okay. Things happened. And since I just discovered that Rhea might not be as wretched as I believed, I supposed she really did have a heart—a heart that was warm and sympathetic and human.

Right when we decided to dissolve the embrace, a knock came on the mahogany, front door. I immediately broke away and hurried over, unlocking it to reveal Cesarevich Dimitri standing on the other side. He looked so handsome in his navy-blue suit and white tie, with his medium-brown hair loose around his shoulders and chocolate-brown eyes gazing lovingly at me. I squealed in delight and jumped into his arms, eliciting a laugh from him. "I'm so happy to see you!" I gushed, holding onto him tightly.

Cesarevich Dimitri returned my embrace and kissed my head. "Likewise, Roza," he said. He set me down and I invited him inside, closing the door behind him. Being meticulous to detail, he easily noticed that something was off with my family. He faced me and concernedly asked, "Is anything wrong?" He then scanned the lodge room and frowned. "Where's your stepmother?"

Father cleared his throat and rose, coming forward. He respectfully bowed and shook hands with Cesarevich Dimitri. "Your majesty, it's a pleasure seeing you again. To answer your questions, things went unfavorably last night between my wife and I. She left soon after, and we don't know where she is," he explained.

Cesarevich Dimitri fell somber. "I'm deeply sorry to hear that, Lord Mazur. I hope all goes well for you and your family," he politely wished. He then realized that Lissa and Jill were also in the room and looked into their jade-green eyes, giving them a smile. "Hello, girls," he sweetly greeted. They smiled back and similarly replied. Cesarevich Dimitri wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. "Lord Mazur, I was wondering if I could spend some time with your daughter," he chivalrously wondered.

Father stared between the two of us before nodding. "Of course. I want her safely brought back to the lodge room before the sun sets," he strictly permitted, an authoritative and protective tone lacing his words.

Cesarevich Dimitri completely obeyed. "As you wish, sir." Father nodded and I quickly told him that I'd see him and my stepsisters later, before I was led outside of the lodge.

The weather was brisk and chilly—gray clouds concealed the bright, blue sky as white snow fell to the ground a little heavier than past days. I wore a delicate, ruby-red dress with black lace and gorgeous ruffles, and I knew that my black, fur coat wasn't going to shield me long-term, so I was glad to see that Cesarevich Dimitri had a horse drawn carriage.

He helped me inside like a true gentleman, and once he entered and got situated, the coachmen started driving. I snuggled into him, reveling in the scent of his grooming products and lean body. It was so soothing that I almost closed my eyes and fell asleep. As the carriage went along the roads, I softly asked, "Where are we going?"

Cesarevich Dimitri replied, "Do you remember when we went to the garden?"

I raked through my memory until I recalled what he was talking about. After I'd had an unpleasant conversation with Tasha, Cesarevich Dimitri took me to the palace vegetable garden. It had been barren and full of soil, and he and I discussed what had happened before we ended up giving each other nicknames.

"Of course I remember, comrade. Why?"

"There's an enormous greenhouse nearby, and I want to take you inside it so we can look around and have a picnic," Cesarevich Dimitri said, interlacing our fingers.

I grinned widely and eagerly nodded. "That sounds lovely! I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am about us finally having some quality time." He smiled at me, and when I thought his pink, full lips were going to press against mine, they actually went higher and affectionately kissed my forehead. It was still sweet, but I was beginning to desperately want more intimacy.

"Me too. You'll enjoy this, Roza." Oh, I believed him. We did a lot of things that I enjoyed.

A comfortable silence filled the carriage, and after a while, we arrived onto royal property and rode to the area behind the palace. The coachmen parked directly in front of the greenhouse, which had a tiled road leading up to it. Cesarevich Dimitri and I exited, sending thanks to the drivers, who nodded and pulled away.

The greenhouse seemed to have a magical exterior with its transparent, polished glass, which was wet with snowfall. It towered above us, nearly reaching the dull sky, and I released a gasp when my hand touched the cold door. Nonetheless, I forced it open and walked in, immediately getting surrounding by the freshest air in the world.

Colorful flowers sat everywhere in full bloom, rivaling the radiance of the sun. Red; yellow; orange; pink; white; blue; and violet bombarded my vision, and I rushed over to the plants, caressing the petals and smelling their hypnotic fragrances. My eyes closed in bliss, and Cesarevich Dimitri stated in amusement, "You like them."

"I like them, indeed." I opened my eyes and went over to him, linking our arms. We began walking throughout the greenhouse on our own little tour, seeing small to medium-sized trees, shrubs, and bushes. There were even man-made lakes.

We continued walking around until we came across an ornate blanket with a woven, picnic basket sitting on top of it. Champagne glasses, fine plates, and encrusted silverware were properly placed and ready to be used. I opened my mouth in awe, and tears watered my eyes—it was perfect. I adored how it was simple yet romantic.

"This is beautiful," I breathed, gazing up at Cesarevich Dimitri. "Thank you so much, comrade. I appreciate you going out of your way to do something so nice for me. For _us_."

His chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with what I knew was undeniable love. My heart fluttered underneath my ribcage. "I would do anything for you, Roza. Absolutely anything," he lowly replied, separating our arms so he could wrap his own around my waist and guide me to sit on the blanket. Cesarevich Dimitri opened the picnic basket and took out English and Russian dishes.

I licked my lips as my mouth salivated. "Mm, that looks delicious!"

He chuckled and began equally filling our plates with crumpets, sandwiches, cooked meat, borscht, dumplings, and black bread. Cesarevich Dimitri then poured the bubbly champagne into our glasses. "Bon appetit," he said before grabbing his fork and eating.

I mimicked him and consumed the food as if I was starving, when suddenly, I was reminded of how I had went on a date with Prince Adrian in a similar manner. He, too, had taken me on a picnic, except it happened at the ocean and we arrived separately. Not to mention, he had been very forward. Now, however, I was dining with Cesarevich Dimitri in a greenhouse in another country, and I didn't feel pressured. I felt cherished and at ease.

Once we were well into our meal, I asked him after swallowing a bite, "How was your day so far?"

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "It was good. I worked on the ball preparations all morning and a little past noon," Cesarevich Dimitri casually answered.

"How is everything coming along?" I pressed, growing excited. The event was happening in three days, and I couldn't wait to wine and dine and dance and spend an overall glorious evening with the man who held my heart.

"It's going great," he said with more expression. "I'm looking forward to it." A dark look suddenly crossed his face and he cursed in Russian.

I leaned away, caught off guard. "What's the matter?"

Cesarevich Dimitri sighed and shook his head. After that, his dark brown eyes met mine. "I talked with the head event planner while I was in the ballroom all morning, and she mentioned how cruel my father was," he bristled, becoming edgy and tense. His large hands clenched into fists. "It just makes me so angry…"

"I understand," I interrupted him, moving closer so I could pull him into a comforting embrace. Cesarevich Dimitri complied and buried his face in the crook of my neck. "I would be upset also—the past needs to be treated as the past. Don't worry. Your father is well out of your family's lives. He's not going to come back," I strongly reassured.

He pulled away from me, a panicked and haunted look contorting his handsome features. "How do you know?" he challenged in a slightly quivering voice. "I never banished him from the country. He could still be around here."

Cesarevich Dimitri's words were sending chills down my spine, so I decided to bring up Rhea's disappearance to change the subject. "It's insane how three, key people are wandering around and we've no clue of their whereabouts," I started.

As expected, he furrowed his dark brows and demanded, "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath before saying as stably as I could, "My stepmother had a serious argument with my father and abandoned us because of it. She got furious at him since she found him with a picture of my biological mother and confronted him about it. Lissa, Jill, and I heard their loud voices and before we knew it, my father cursed at her and she slapped him. She even almost hurt my stepsisters after they refused to leave with her."

Cesarevich Dimitri was silent for several moments, stunned, before he finally regained composure. He ran a hand through his hair. "My goodness…I didn't suspect things to be that terrible. Why did he bring a picture of your mother?" he wondered curiously.

"Yeah, well they are. And, my father's love for my mother has only grown since her death. He thought that getting married again would fix our lives, but it didn't produce the results he hoped for," I explained. A sharp pang stabbed at my chest, however I forced it away as Lissa's words echoed in my mind. _The future will be better…_

"I think that's sweet," Cesarevich Dimitri told me. When I stared at him in confused shock, he clarified, "What I find sweet, Rose, is that your father will always reserve his heart for your mother, no matters what happens. It's sad that he had to hurt people in order to realize the truth, but that's life."

I nodded in agreement. "You're right." I then sighed and looked at our picnic, which now had empty plates and glasses. My stomach surely felt stuffed, so I suggested, "We should go. I'm finished eating, and I need to be back at my lodge room before sundown." Cesarevich Dimitri complied and cleaned everything up, but left the objects there. When he began to lead me away, I interjected, "Wait! Aren't we taking this with us?"

"The servants will get it." I let the issue fade, and he took me to the greenhouse's exit. But before we went outside, Cesarevich Dimitri grabbed the head of a nearby tulip.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm giving this to you as a gift. When you wear it, I want you to know that I think you are the most beautiful person I've ever met," he wholeheartedly confessed, his intense eyes burning with love.

I was so moved by his words that I could barely say my own. A smile blossomed on my face, and I wanted to burst into happy tears as I said, "You really mean that?"

Cesarevich Dimitri was infected by my smile. "Of course I do, Roza." With all the certainty and confidence in the universe, he professed, "I love you." It was as if everything around us stopped, and there was only me and him. I didn't think he'd tell me so soon after he hadn't a couple or few days ago, but I supposed he realized that it needed to be done.

He put the tulip in my hair, and when our eyes met again, I said back, "I love you too, Dimitri."

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled us close together until our foreheads were touching. My heart started hammering in my chest as he came even closer and gingerly kissed my lips. I immediately responded and snaked my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Eventually, our tongues began an erotic dance, and we started humming in pleasure.

It was total bliss and all I had ever dreamed of—I never wanted this moment to end.

We broke away after a while with slightly labored breath and glazed eyes. "I think the sky is getting darker. I should be taking you back to the lodge now," Cesarevich Dimitri advised, clasping his hand in mine. We walked along the tiled road to wait for the carriage by the vegetable garden, the chilling air surrounding us. The silence between us was relaxing, so I started drifting off mentally. After a few things crossed my mind, I remembered something.

"Are you going to keep teaching me how to fight? It's been a while," I wondered.

I didn't get an answer for a few seconds, but it came. "I completely forgot about that. Everything's been so hectic, lately. Regardless of that, though, I would like to keep instructing you. I believe it will be of great use in the future."

Instantaneously, I thought of Tasha and her hatred towards me. That woman gave me a bad feeling, and I incredibly wanted to be prepared, in case she lashed out and committed something horrible.

When Cesarevich Dimitri and I arrived at the vegetable garden, I squeezed his hand. "I think so, too. And, I would like to start as soon as possible."

* * *

 **Don't forget to review my readers! Keep telling me what you think. :)**

 **New readers, please follow and fav if you like the story. Thanks!:)**


	20. Chapter 20: Lost and Found

**I deeply apologize for taking this long to update; school's been very demanding. Hopefully, you can understand.**

 **As a treat, this chapter is extra long. Enjoy reading!:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **APOV**

A stout, middle-aged crewman ran into my quarters, out of breath and riddled with panic. It took me a while to realize that someone had intruded on my romantic interlude with Sydney, until she squealed and hastened in covering up her naked body.

I climbed out of bed and grabbed my shirt that was on the wooden floor. "What is it that you want?" I demanded, bristling with annoyance. Whatever it was, it had better be good enough to interrupt an intimate evening with my wife.

The crewman didn't respond—he was adamantly focused on Sydney's bare form, his wide eyes glazed with lust. I slapped him across the face, causing him to yelp and rub his cheek. "Don't you ever look at my wife in such a way," I growled. "Answer the question, you perverted bastard. I haven't got all night."

He swiftly recovered, but words refused to leave his mouth for several moments. He was quivering all over, and a sheet of sweat broke out over his feverish flesh. I was beginning to grow insanely worried, so I pressed, "Spit it out, already. What's wrong?"

The crewman was about to speak when our royal ship lurched to the side, causing Sydney to tumble out of bed while me and him smashed into a wall. I immediately regained balance and rushed to my wife, helping her up, unfazed by her lack of clothing. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?" I questioned, searching for any injuries.

Sydney winced a little but fought through her pain. "I'm fine, Adrian," she reassured. She detached herself from me, going over to the nearby wardrobe to fetch a robe. Once her beautiful frame was concealed, she wondered, "What on earth was that?"

By this point, the older crewman was upright. He met Sydney's hazel-gold gaze. "An enormous wave just slammed into the ship. The weather is absolutely horrible, so if this continues, the ship will sink, your majesty," he explained with barely controlled hysteria.

A vicious gulp burned my throat, and it felt as if my entire body was frozen. There was no way the ship could submerge. We needed to get to the Belikov's annual ball on time; any delay could cost us from attending. What were we going to do? Would we be able to evacuate the ship before it was too late?

"We need to go to the lifeboats," Sydney voiced. She marched over to me and grabbed my hand. "Adrian, come on. If we wait any longer, we'll have no chance." I nodded, allowing her to drag me out of our quarters while the crewman followed.

As we navigated to the side of the ship by dim lamplight, we were tossed back and forth as even more tumultuous, North Sea waves assaulted our mode of transportation. I heard other crewmen scream and hoped that they were going to the lifeboats as well, instead of trying to keep the ship stable; the odds were heavily against us.

After what seemed like forever, we reached the lifeboats, and I wanted to cheer with joy. However, I quickly remembered that it was well past dusk, and the only thing that helped us see was the silver moon and stars. The crashing of the waves was deeply unnerving; saltwater poured into the ship and soaked everything it touched.

"Ladies first!" I yelled over all of the noise, pushing Sydney into the lifeboat.

She countered my attempt, digging her nails into my arms. "I'm not leaving without you!" In the meantime, female staff rushed to safety in a mob, nearly pummeling us in the process. Time was running out, and I needed her to listen to me before the bulk of the male staff came charging over, or else she'd have no chance.

Her life was far more important than mine.

Grinding my teeth, I urged, "Sydney, you need to get in. As the Prince of England and your husband, I command you." I hated using my male authority over her, but it was the only way to get her to obey. Sydney highly respected hierarchical systems.

Like I predicted, my wife glared at me but listened nonetheless. As soon as she was inside the lifeboat, the majority of the crewmen arrived. I cursed as they shoved me back, not realizing who I was. Their clamor of voices was almost impossible to overpower, but I fortunately succeeded and was able to enter the lifeboat. When I did, Sydney immediately engulfed me with a huge embrace. It somehow felt warm despite our chilling skin.

Suddenly, dreadful news pierced our moment. "All of the lifeboats are full!" someone shouted. Simultaneously, they were being lowered into the ocean one by one, and my heart hammered in my chest as the waves grew worse and worse. At this pace, we were probably not going to make it to complete safety and end up drowning with the unlucky people and ship.

"Adrian…" Sydney lowly said in my ear. "We'll be okay."

Her words did nothing to comfort me, and my negative thoughts started consuming me until our lifeboat began descending into the ocean, which we eventually contacted. It was even rockier than being on deck, but I was grateful for leaving the ship.

Some of the people in our lifeboat were controlling the oars, and we rode away from the ship, forming a huddle with the rest that landed. As the distance between danger and safety increased, I saw the most terrible wave turn over the ship. Shrieks of bloody murder filled the storming, dark sky as the unfortunate met their doom.

I looked away and sent a silent prayer: _May God and Heaven be with you all._

* * *

 **January 7** **th** **, 1686**

 **RPOV**

"Can you believe there's only two more days until the ball?" I gushed to Lissa, spinning around like a giddy princess. "I cannot wait to wear a beautiful dress, eat exquisite food, dance to magnificent music, and spend time with Cesarevich Dimitri all night."

My blond stepsister laughed benevolently from her spot on the dark bed in the lodge room bedchamber we shared. Her jade-green eyes glittered with knowing. "I take it that last night went extremely well…" she trailed off, waiting for me to respond.

I ceased spinning as her words triggered my memory. The warmest feeling washed over me, and I was certain I was blushing. "Oh my goodness, it was absolutely amazing. Cesarevich Dimitri took me to the royal palace greenhouse, and it had the most gorgeous plants on earth. I'm serious, Lissa, you need to see it. We then had an intimate picnic, conversing here and there. When it was over, he gave me a flower and kissed me. It was so lovely and romantic," I told in a dreamlike voice.

Lissa was silent for a while, and I broke out of my reverie, wondering if she had even heard anything. Suddenly, my stepsister shot off the bed and ran over to me, her eyes at their widest. "Cesarevich Dimitri…kissed you?" she reiterated, gripping my arms with such surprising strength that it was actually producing pain.

I nodded, a smile slowly brightening my features. "Yes."

As soon as I answered, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from Lissa's mouth, and I jerked away, hastily covering my ears so I could block out all of the excruciating noise. I thought my actions would get her to quit, however she continued screaming until Father and Jill ran into our bedchamber, overcome with panicky concern.

"Is everything all right?" Father asked, his chestnut-brown eyes darting all over the place. Jill hurried over to Lissa but was afraid to touch her sister, for a thick sheet of sweat coated her pale flesh and labored breaths exploded from her body. Father's eyes settled on Lissa, adopting mature calmness. "Vasilisa, please relax. We need you to tell us what's wrong."

Like a demon hijacking the possessed, Lissa cackled uncontrollably, light tears rolling down her cheeks as her angelic face reddened. We all stared at her in confusion. "I don't understand; what on earth is so hilarious?" Jill wondered, her brows furrowed.

Father crossed his arms over his chest. "Indeed, Vasilisa. Please explain to us the meaning of your insane laughter." It took my darling stepsister a while to recover, but once she did, her face was clean and her slender body ceased having spasms.

"I'm deeply sorry for scaring you all," she apologized. Her lip began to twitch, and all the seriousness she had accumulated slipped away. "It's just…I find it so humorous that every time I scream in excitement, you think that something bad has happened."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Well, that's what people are naturally going to think, Lissa," I exclaimed. "What do you expect?" She quieted once that was said, and Father rolled his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose. I could see that he was worn out, and a part of me felt guilty about him getting in these instances.

Jill decided to change the subject, lighten the mood. "We ordered breakfast, if anyone's hungry. It's sitting out on a wheeled cart, covered by silver platters. I suggest you hurry before the food gets cold," she told us. My stomach cheered at the fact that there was food waiting to be eaten, however I realized that I should resume my training with Cesarevich Dimitri instead.

After all, I had notified him about wanting to continue as soon as possible.

With that in mind, I automatically started going to my suitcase to retrieve a new outfit. "That sounds great, but I'm not going to stay for breakfast. I'm going to meet with Cesarevich Dimitri. I'll probably grab something small downstairs," I politely declined, earning surprised looks.

Father quickly came to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Rosemarie, you can just take something portable from the cart. There's no need to waste money on food when we already have it," he reasoned in a paternalistic tone. I sighed and nodded, not wanting to argue with him. He was right.

"Okay." I smiled at him, pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. I then ran into the bathroom and took the swiftest shower ever, barely reveling in the hot water and body wash that cleaned me. Once that was done, I dried off and styled my hair into a simple ponytail. Afterwards, I applied some light makeup—mascara, lip gloss, and foundation—before yanking on black trousers, a white shirt, polished boots, and fluffy coat.

I swung the elaborate bathroom door open, frightening my father and stepsisters. Running as if my life depended on it, I charged at the breakfast cart, only pausing to grab an apple. I bit into the juicy fruit, resuming my speed, when Lissa shouted from the bedchamber, "You still need to find a dress for the ball, Rose!"

My mouth was filled with bolus as I replied, "I already picked one out!"

* * *

 **DPOV**

"Allow me to assist you," Rose offered, reaching down to collect the weapons we used during training. I grabbed her slender arm, my heart racing as I was met by her beautiful, chestnut-brown gaze. She tried to cock an eyebrow in defiance. "What? You don't want my help?"

"That won't be necessary, but I appreciate it," I refused kindly, giving her a warm smile. She sighed in disappointment yet obeyed, stepping back and impatiently waiting as I scooped up swords, daggers, and bows and arrows to place them in their proper sheaths. When I finished, I walked over to Rose and clasped our hands together.

The sky was concealed with gray-white clouds as voluminous as cotton, light flakes of snow nesting in our dark hair and drifting to the earth. The air was warmer—it was the afternoon—but we could still feel a subtle chill sneaking through our clothes and tormenting our bones.

Above all, the silence was absolute bliss. Sometimes, reveling in another's presence was just as satisfying as having a conversation with them.

When we neared the palace arsenal, Rose suddenly yanked on my arm, trying to stop me. Her action caused some of the weapons I was carrying to crash to the snow, and I cursed in Russian, squatting to pick everything up.

"Why did you do that?" I demanded in frustration.

Rose immediately apologized. "I'm terribly sorry, Dimitri. I didn't mean for that to happen. It's just…I wanted to keep training. I don't think I've learned enough yet, and I'm worried—"

I bolted upright and interrupted, "Why are you worried, Rose? You're progressing swiftly and should certainly be a combat and self-defense expert sooner than the average novice." When she didn't answer and averted her gaze, I automatically realized what this was about: Tasha. Her disappearance was driving her insane, and she would only feel safe if she had completely learned how to protect herself.

I wordlessly wrapped my arms around her curvy frame, caressing her soft hair and kissing the top of her head. "Roza, nothing's going to happen to you. I thought we went over this," I whispered. I couldn't understand how this was still haunting her—I had already assured her so many times, and frankly, her not being satisfied with my protection alone was beginning to consume me.

"I know, Dimitri," she said, "but there's a small part of me that doesn't believe I'm safe."

"Roza, you'll always be safe with me," I pressed, feeling as if I'd shatter if I didn't get it through to her. To substantiate my claim, I lifted her chin and softly kissed her, evoking a warm smile and sigh of pleasure. I embraced her again, though this time, I was firm. "Never forget how much I love you, Roza. Always remember that love can defeat any evil."

She peered upward and narrowed her hypnotic gaze. "Who told you that?"

Confusion gripped me. "What do you mean?"

"Who told you that love can defeat any evil?" It took me a while to answer—pain squeezed my throat and chest as memories fogged my conscience, and I felt myself sweating and falling apart before some rational piece of me finally regained control and powered my voice.

"My mother," I quietly said. "It was her explanation for accepting the abuse my father inflicted upon her. She thought that if she continued loving him, he'd eventually change and return to the man she fell in love with." A cruel laugh escaped my mouth, and anger and bitterness crept into my body. "What a lie that turned out to be."

Rose countered, "You must believe in it, Dimitri. Otherwise, you wouldn't have told me the same thing."

"Yes, you're right," I agreed. It was almost frightening how she could read me as if I was a journal, her journal.

She then directed her attention to the weapons I still held. "Enough with this pain and sorrow. Let's get everything back to the arsenal. We've been out here forever," she suggested. I nodded, pulling her close to me and resuming our handholding.

When we reached the spacious, fully equipped arsenal, a couple of the palace guards were inside, trading their weapons. The tall, lean soldiers noticed our entrance, quickly finishing their task before bowing respectfully. "Your majesties, is there anything you need help with?" they asked in English for Rose's sake, their Russian accents heavily coating their words.

I gestured my head to the silver and wooden weapons resting on my shoulder and back. They took the hint and swiftly handled it, placing them in their proper locations. "Thank you," I said gratefully, acknowledging them with a nod.

"You're welcome, my prince." They bowed again and added, "Likewise, Miss Mazur." Rose walked over to the guards and bestowed a casual kiss upon their cheeks, earning classic looks of surprise. My eyebrow rose in question, and when she returned to my side, she waved a hand in dismissal.

"You know I only did it out of politeness. Also, it's a European custom," Rose explained. The guards and I simultaneously remembered that there was nothing strange about what had just happened, and she rolled her eyes at our dumbness, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the arsenal.

As we strolled atop the marble floors and beneath the crystal chandeliers, I began pondering about the annual ball and what Rose was planning on wearing. Stealing a glance at her beautiful figure, I imagined her in a blood-red gown with a scandalous neckline and backline and tight fit; a white dress decorated in fine lace, with a glorious train and loose design; or maybe even an embellished, purple dress to signify her hopes of becoming a royal…

"Dimka." That voice—that soft yet strong, loving voice—snapped me out of my thoughts. My mother strutted towards me and Rose, her chocolate-brown eyes warm with delight. I gave her a kiss when she reached us while Rose granted her a hug. "I am so happy I found you, my son," she mused. "I wanted to let you know that the ball preparations are officially over, and there's no need for you to tend to them anymore."

I exhaled a sigh of relief. "Thank the Lord."

Rose chuckled, and my mother smiled kindly at her. "Are you excited, Roza?" she asked. "I can't wait to see you all dressed up for the occasion."

"I am _extremely_ excited. Honestly, this is something I've been looking forward to ever since I was a little girl. I'm dying to experience what the event has to offer," Rose replied, her last sentence completely referring to me.

My mother narrowed her gaze as she processed everything. Within a few seconds, she was glaring at me so sternly, I couldn't help but feel like a young boy again. "Dimitri," she chastised, "you know damn well that courting Rosemarie before the ball is unacceptable. I knew there was mutual interest, but I believed that you wouldn't allow it to go this far. What on earth made you think that having a date in our greenhouse was okay?"

"I courted Tasha in the past, and you had no issues regarding _that_ relationship," I retorted, knowing she could smack me in an instant but not caring.

As expected, my mother entered my proximity and lay her hand on my cheek soft enough to be painless yet hard enough for me to watch my behavior. "You started courting her well in advance of a ball," she spat. "And, you two are childhood friends." Suddenly, a solemn look crossed her face, and she quietly asked, "Tasha's still gone, isn't she?"

Rose stiffened in panic then furrowed her brows in confusion. "Czarina Olena, you knew?"

"Of course I did," my mother responded incredulously. "However, I have yet to learn about the reasons why she's gone." Those words were directed at me, and an expectant look pierced my soul and made me want to jump out of my skin.

I was seriously not in the mood to continue discussing this, but something had to be said. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Tasha left the palace without uttering a word after we had an unpleasant conversation."

My mother frowned and crossed her arms. "What did you tell her, Dimitri?" she accusingly demanded.

"Time is really passing me by. I should get back to my family," Rose tried to excuse herself, turning on her heel, however my mother ordered her to stay put in that fiercely parental tone. "Yes, madam," she submissively obeyed.

"Can we please talk about this another time?" I urged. "I know I told you that before and didn't keep my word, but I'm serious now. We should go someplace where no one can hear us. Somewhere private."

My mother opened her mouth to speak, yet she was interrupted by the head royal event planner, Svetlana Kalashnikova, who came running up to us with a clipboard. She was hyperventilating when she reached us, and she gave no time for herself to recover, informing, "Your majesties, I've discovered a slight problem regarding the annual ball."

Dread washed over me, and I forced myself to stifle a groan. I thought the preparations were supposed to be finished. What could possibly go wrong two days before the event?

"What's the matter, Svetlana?" my mother questioned, her voice tainted with worry.

Svetlana smoothed her crisp, professional uniform, tidied hair, and plain glasses. "All of the guests except for two have reserved accommodations near the palace and have sent a notice that they've arrived in the area," she drawled out.

It wasn't Rose's place to talk, however she pressed, "Who are they?"

The royal event planner sent her a disapproving look before replying, "Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney Ivashkov."

The rest of us stared at her with our mouths agape. I couldn't understand why they were falling behind schedule this year out of all years. The Ivashkovs and Sages always attended my family's ball…

"Do you think…do you think they're dead?" Rose squeaked, her chestnut-brown eyes watering and body tensing in anticipation of terrible news. I swallowed deep and hard, resting my hand on her back out of comfort.

Svetlana sighed and shook her head. "I don't know, Miss Mazur, but if they took the North Sea to get here, they could've died from the chilling temperatures and volatile waves this time of year. A lot of travelers suffer from hypothermia and—"

"Go to Admiral Mikhail Tanner and tell him that he needs to send a naval fleet of rescuers. Be sure to explain the purpose of this. If he defies me in any way, tell him that I'll relieve him of his duties and make him a peasant," my mother ordered, her voice low and cold, her dark brown eyes void of any exaggeration.

"It isn't certain that Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney are in the North Sea, Czarina Olena."

Rose was quick to support my mother. "I know it sounds uncontrollable, and above all, insane. However, there's still a chance that they're alive. My _friends_ are out there, lost and frightened. They deserve to be found, and they deserve to come here and attend the ball just like everyone else. You _have_ to save them," she pleaded with so much emotion, it seemed as if she'd cry.

Svetlana countered, "Miss Mazur—"

"My mother died from a gruesome accident caused by horrible weather conditions the same time of year. I will not lose more loved ones that way ever again, and you are going to keep that from happening," she delivered her final blow, tears streaming down her beautiful face as her body shivered.

I formidably gazed at Svetlana and growled, "Inform Admiral Tanner this instant."

I pulled Rose to me and held her while she sobbed away her grief and pain. My mother fell sorrowful and sympathetic, muttering a Russian prayer. Svetlana was struck by surprise before shame and regret claimed her. "Of course, my prince. I am immensely sorry for your loss, Miss Mazur. Don't worry, I'll see to it that your friends are safe," she apologized then agreed.

Rose separated from me, nodding and sniffling. "Thank you, madam. Thank you."

* * *

 **CPOV**

My goodness, I missed Lissa. I missed her silky, platinum-blond hair; kind, jade-green eyes; slender, pale figure; and friendly and tolerant personality. I wished the Belikov annual ball was over, so our courtship could be off hold. I understood that she'd been dreaming of the event all her life, like Rose, but her rightful place wasn't Russia.

It was with me. It would always be with me.

I walked aimlessly around the manor I occupied with Aunt Tasha. It was almost painfully lonely being in here—she had been in Russia for about two months already, and the last time I talked to her was two weeks ago. I was slowly losing my mind in here; I had seen enough of the same, old furniture and accessories and floors and walls.

I had spent some time with Mason, Eddie, and Mia—she didn't go to the Belikov's annual ball because she wanted to stay with Eddie—but even that wasn't enough. I wanted my love and family by my side.

After roaming for ten minutes, I groaned aloud and went into the kitchen. I opened the dark, hardwood cabinets and stared at all of the delicious food options, but I wasn't hungry. I huffed in frustration, going to the living room.

I alternated between sitting on the couch, laying on the rug, flickering the lamps on and off, and flipping through book pages. I was enormously bored, but I wasn't in the mood to socialize right now. It seriously felt awful. I found myself doing all of this for a shocking twenty minutes before a knock sounded on the oak door.

Curious, I stalked over. People rarely came to the manor, so I wondered who could possibly be brave enough to set foot on the "tainted" Ozera estate. Gripping the gold doorknob, I opened the door and saw an unrecognizable woman no older than forty.

She offered a small smile, a genuine smile. "Hello, young man. I sincerely apologize for bothering you, but I need directions to a place on the outskirts of town. The address is 666 Harrington Avenue," she told me before chuckling. "I've been there more times than I can count, but the route never seems to stick in my head."

My eyes widened once I heard the address. It belonged to a popular brothel. The woman standing in front of me was a prostitute.

I started secretly observing her body to confirm my belief. She was taller than most women, with pale, flawless skin and a slender frame. Her head was covered with long, light brown hair that fell in waves. Her pretty face possessed high cheekbones, sensuous lips, and hazel-green eyes that still held optimal youth.

She definitely looked like a high earner at the brothel, especially since she said she had been there so frequently, she could no longer keep track.

I was about to answer her inquisition when I observed her again and realized she strangely resembled Jill. Maybe she was an aunt or distant cousin…it was really none of my business, but the more I was thinking about it, the more I wanted to know.

"Excuse me for asking, miss, but are you related to a young woman named Jillian Dragomir?" I slowly questioned, watching her very carefully. The prostitute immediately grew fidgety and I apologized just as swiftly, stammering, "I had no right demanding such personal information from you."

She muttered to herself, "You got yourself into this mess, Emily. Now, you need to pay for it." The pros—Emily—calmed down and took a deep breath. She stared me straight in the eye. "I am indeed related to Jillian Dragomir. I'm her birth mother."

* * *

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 **Until next time...**


	21. Chapter 21: The Painful Truth

**Sorry for taking so long! I've been sick, busy, and wanted to relax and do other things; I plan to update again in a week. Thanks for the follows, favs, and reviews! They're much appreciated. Enjoy reading:)**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **CPOV**

"You're Jillian Dragomir's mother?" I exclaimed, staring at the woman in front of me as if I was a denying idiot. Emily nodded in confirmation then eyed me with panicky concern—she probably thought I was going to collapse. She stepped forward, attempting to lay her fine hand on my shoulder, but I shook my head. "Don't. I'm all right," I hastily told her.

She narrowed her gaze, skeptical, but soon enough let the matter fade. Emily peered into the manor sheepishly, shyly asking, "Is it okay if I come in?"

Truthfully, I didn't want her staying here any longer, however I knew that I had to be gentlemanly—she'd probably been on the road for a while and wanted to have a drink and something to eat. Not to mention, people always gave prostitutes a difficult time. I put a smile on my face and moved aside. "Of course, Ms.…"

"Mastrano," she answered, not sparing me a glance as she entered. "But you can just call me Emily. Formality is such a drab."

"If you say so," I muttered under my breath. I closed the door and locked it before strolling into the kitchen and rummaging through the stocked cabinets. "Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich with some tea, or cookies and coffee," I called.

"Tea is perfect," Emily responded from the living room. I expertly put a kettle of water on the stove and ignited the gas so it could boil. Once that was done, I joined Jill's mother—that sounded so weird—on one of the large couches.

She crossed her flawless legs, the slit of her dress—I just noticed it—showcasing a scandalous piece of skin. I gulped. "This is a lovely place," Emily complimented. "It's been a while since I've been on noble property."

My brows furrowed. What was that supposed to mean? I leaned against the armrest, appearing nonchalant. "Thank you. My Aunt Tasha tries to keep the manor as nice as possible—we don't have a staff anymore, thanks to my wonderful parents," I responded sarcastically.

Emily fell sympathetic. "I'm sorry about your family, and I'm sorry you have to suffer the consequences of their actions." No one was ever this…caring toward an Ozera, and frankly, it caught me off guard. Maybe prostitutes and social outcasts were one and the same.

I held up a hand. "You can keep your sympathy to yourself. It's okay."

At that, Jill's mother grew upset. "It is not okay. Citizens of this country need to stop being so judgmental and hypocritical and small-minded. Just because your parents committed a horrendous crime doesn't mean they're bad people. We all make mistakes," she fussed, growing red and tense.

Out of nowhere, the kettle screeched.

"I'll be right back," I excused myself. Hurrying into the kitchen, I turned off the stove and removed the scorching kettle. I then retrieved two sets of fine China from the cabinet and poured generous amounts of tea into the cups, adding a few sugar cubes. Like an experienced butler, I delivered one to Emily before settling onto the couch.

She sipped gingerly and moaned in delight. "Mm, this is delicious. Thank you."

I raised my cup. "You're welcome." I took a short sip then cleared my throat and said, "I think we've talked enough about me, Ms. Emily. Tell me about you." She slightly choked on her tea, falling uncomfortable with the change in subject, and nervous laughter escaped her mouth.

"What would you like to know?" she interrogated.

I shrugged, taking another sip. "Anything. However, to make this easier for you, why don't you enlighten me on how Jillian ended up with the Dragomirs before Vasilisa's mother married Lord Mazur?" I devilishly suggested.

Emily retorted, "I don't understand how this is supposed to be easier for me."

"Well perhaps dear, little me lied. Yet, I believe this is a fair demand since I gave you directions and hospitality," I reasoned, giving her a knowing look. She huffed in defeat and covered her face with her free hand. It almost made me regret asking about matters that weren't my business, yet as she'd said, she buried herself into this mess.

Emily set down her tea on a nearby, glass coffee table. She smoothed down her pretty hair, even though it was neat, and shifted the slit in her dress, hiding the skin she now didn't want to display. "Jillian lived with the Dragomirs before Rhea remarried because the patriarch, Eric, is her father," she confessed.

My eyes bugged out of my head. "He had an affair?" I blurted in disbelief. Lord Dragomir used to be the highly praised and respected pastor of a well-known, Protestant church; he had always preached about the destructiveness of temptation. The wretchedness of sin.

I never would've suspected him of doing such a…shameful thing. Lissa's mother must've felt extremely humiliated and betrayed.

Emily nodded. "He secretly visited my brothel right after Vasilisa turned one, and I got pregnant." Her eyes and voice became strangely nostalgic, wistful. "He was such a handsome and wonderful man. I wish I could spend time with him again, but there's no chance of our relationship ever being anything more than business."

My voice had to fight through my constricted airway, and I sounded hoarse, almost tortured. "Does Jillian know that you're her mother? Does Vasilisa know?"

Emily faced me, her eyes watery. "Do you honestly think that someone would tell Jillian or her half-sister that she's the daughter of a cheap, desperate, family splitting whore?" she answered with a trembling voice.

 _No._

A tear slid down her pale face, but she wiped it away. "Eric and Rhea made a promise to each other once Jillian was born: They would never tell anyone that she wasn't their child and do their very best to make sure she felt like a Dragomir."

They did an excellent job upholding their promise—Lissa and Jill had never suspected anything different, and they still had no clue. I was certain part of their success was due to the fact that they all had similar features: tallness, pale skin, and jade-green eyes.

I couldn't stand seeing Jill's mother fall depressed, so I softly inputted, "I'm sure that Jillian will meet you in the future. She's getting closer to womanhood, so Lord Dragomir and Lady Dragomir-Mazur won't be able to control what she does much longer."

Emily nodded blindly. Moments of silence passed until Jill's mother sighed and patted her legs. Her gorgeous, hazel-green eyes stared into mine. "I must be on my way. Thank you for all your help and kindness. It seriously warms my heart."

"You're very welcome."

She stood up and walked over to the front door, yet before she opened it, she jerked around, her scandalous dress twirling fiercely. Her gaze was dark and hard. "Don't tell anyone of our conversation, do you understand me, Christian Ozera?"

I questioned, "Does 'anyone' include Vasilisa and Jillian?" I sincerely believed they had the right to know their whole family was a lie, especially Jill; it wasn't good hiding secrets, no matter how ugly they were.

Emily clenched her jaw. "Absolutely. I want them to discover everything on their own, and if it takes them a while, then so be it."

I sighed and nodded reluctantly. "If you say so."

* * *

 **RPOV**

"Rosemarie, aren't you going to eat dinner?" Father questioned from the wooden, polished, kitchen table in our lodge room. He was seated in a velvet chair, chewing on scrumptious lamb and cabbage and bread, alongside my stepsisters.

His voice was soft, chiding. It annoyed me.

"Why don't you stop pacing for a few minutes and have a meal with us?"

I threw my hands up in the air and tangled them into my dark locks. "How can I eat and act like nothing's wrong when Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney are stuck in the middle of the ocean and might not make it out alive?!" I spat, feeling my blood boil in my veins. I knew I shouldn't be cross with him; however, this uncertainty was consuming me alive.

I had a difficult time handling situations like this since Mother had died.

Lissa pierced me with her all-knowing, jade-green eyes. "When you came back, Rose, you told us that Czarina Olena and Cesarevich Dimitri ordered the Russian navy to send a search party. Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney most likely won't make it to the annual ball. However, I'm sure they'll remain alive. Quit worrying," she reassured, sounding irritated.

"This isn't something to simply forget, Lissa," I growled.

"Settle down, girls," Father commanded.

Jill swiftly defended her sister. "She wasn't undermining the situation. She was only trying to say that you should have faith and keep calm." I supposed her words were right. Lissa really did have everyone's best interests at heart, yet she sometimes struggled expressing it the proper way.

Father waved me over. "Come and sit with us, Rosemarie. Your food is getting cold," he half-suggested, half-ordered. I obliged and seated myself in the empty chair, picking up a silver spoon and scooping some cabbage. When I put it into my mouth, it was lukewarm.

"Have you heard from Madam Rhea?" I asked Father after I swallowed. I doubted there'd ever be a time when I'd call that woman my mother.

He paused mid-chew and was as frozen as a statue. Lissa and Jill stirred in their seats, as restless as ghosts. The entire lodge room fell into a pit of uncomfortable silence, and I was tempted to change the subject, yet we all needed to speak about this. She had been gone for a few days now, and with the annual ball approaching, it seemed as if she wasn't going to attend anymore.

"How have your training sessions been going?" Father stalled, his chestnut-brown eyes sparkling with fake interest. Lissa and Jill immediately mimicked him, putting on the widest smiles I'd ever seen.

I gave them all a stern look. "I expect an answer."

They sighed and killed their façade. My stepsisters intently focused on their plates—they were mostly empty excluding the food they had played over—so Father would be forced to respond. He sent them a powerful glare before following up with me.

"I haven't talked to your stepmother, Rosemarie," he solemnly said. Out of my periphery, I noticed Lissa and Jill's gaze flick upward.

I cocked my head. "Have either of you made any attempts?"

Father sighed, twirling his fork in his hand. "Believe me, I've definitely thought about contacting her on multiple occasions; however, I feel that Rhea needs some time figuring matters out. And, she hasn't contacted me."

This was just splendid! My stepmother was still nowhere to be found, and for all I knew, she could've somehow joined forces with deranged Tasha.

My heart instantaneously halted. What if that was exactly what Rhea was doing? It made sense—the woman hated me with a passion, and it was the perfect opportunity to seek revenge on Father for him causing her heartbreak and embarrassment.

Oh my goodness, this could be true. This could—

"Rose, are you all right?" asked Jill, her innocent, jade-green eyes swimming with worry. "You look awfully pale, and you've been staring blindly for several moments." I robotically faced her, but the troubled look remained plastered on my face. Father and Lissa watched me closely, unsure about whether to press for an explanation or leave me alone.

I shook my head and gulped, recovering. While I looked at ease, my heart still hammered against my ribcage. "I'm fine, everyone. I was just thinking the worst about what could happen to Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney," I convincingly lied.

I probably should've told them what was on my mind; however, I didn't want to hurt my stepsisters' feelings or even Father's. They believed Rhea was a good person at heart, and I needed to respect that.

Besides, would she really commit something so terrible?

Father reached over the table to grab my hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze. "I understand that their situation is extremely dire and even fatal, yet all we can do is hope for the best. Don't let all of this misfortune interfere with the good in your life, Rosemarie. The Russian annual ball's on its way"—he began including Lissa and Jill—"and you girls should be excited. You've been dreaming about this event since you were children. Don't let that dream die."

My stepsisters and I looked between each other and smiled. Father was right. We couldn't keep letting others' unhappiness dampen our own. It would make us miserable, and life was too short for such negativity.

I squeezed Father's hand back, and Lissa and Jill connected theirs between the both of them, me and Father. "We won't let _any_ of our dreams die," I promised.

He smiled knowingly. "And why is that, my dear?"

"Because they're too precious to give up."

* * *

 **DPOV**

"How's the search going?" I interrogated my mother, my body as rigid as stone. We were in her bedchamber, the intricate walls decorated with Russian designs and a medium shade of violet; there was also an elaborate, small chandelier hanging above our heads. Fragrant candlelight flickered in the dark, a crisp yet soothing scent wafting in the air. Old portraits of our family—emotionless and disconnected—hung directly across from the entrance.

A royal family wasn't supposed to look like that. We were supposed to look happy and proud. I was supposed to be a carefree, easygoing prince. I was supposed to believe that life was fair and wonderful.

 _Thanks a lot, Father._

"Admiral Tanner and his rescuing fleet are progressing at a satisfying pace," my mother answered from her soft, silk covered bed. "They should be getting out of the Baltic Sea." I nodded but continued feeling stressed. She eyed me from her location as I paced like a wild animal. "Dimka, will you please stop worrying? This is out of our control."

"I know, мать, but I can't help thinking that I'd be letting Rose down if Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney aren't found," I told her. She had become so important to me, it was as if my heart fed off of her thoughts, words, and actions. I almost wished I had never fallen for her like this, yet I was grateful because it had been a long time since I'd ever felt this happy with someone.

My mother looked at me with her warm, chocolate-brown eyes. Her heartfelt smile bled admiration and pride and love. "I am so thankful that you're my son. You always strived to do the right thing and what was best for those around you. You were always brave and strong and protective. You were always wise. And, you always tried to rid pain from everyone's lives." She sniffled, and her voice became a tremble. "You're such a beautiful person, and I know that you're going to be the greatest czar the world has ever seen."

Hearing those words made my heart throb. It meant everything knowing that my mother had tremendous faith in me, after all that we'd been through. It had helped inspire me to save Russia from its destitution and redeem the monarchy. I could just imagine what my reign would be like in the near future: a golden age.

I walked over to my mother and sat down next to her. I pulled her into a loving embrace and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm a beautiful person because of you," I credited her. "You've done so much for me, and soon, it'll be my turn to return the favor."

"I can't wait," she softly said. My mother then yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I believe it's getting late. We should go to bed—we need all of our energy for the annual ball.

Nodding, I kissed her forehead and embraced her once more. "Agreed. Goodnight, мать. I love you."

She buried herself under the covers and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Dimka. I love you too."

...

 **January 8** **th** **, 1686**

When I woke up the next morning, I was startled to find my grandmother, Yeva Belikova, standing beside my bed. She was an old and feeble and clairvoyant woman, only leaving her bedchamber if something she sensed or envisioned deeply alarmed her. Her accuracy was frighteningly undeniable, but people usually wrote her off as insane and delusional.

Rose and her family hadn't met her when they came to the palace, yet they would at the annual ball tomorrow; I never told them about her because of that.

I bolted upright, alert. "What are you doing here, Бабушка?"

"Dimka, you need to cancel the annual ball," my grandmother whispered in her raspy voice.

Shocked, I stared at her as if she lost her mind. "Бабушка, I can't just cancel an event that's going to be taking place tomorrow evening, in our palace! There's no chance I could inform a change in plans to all of the guests within a day. Moreover, all of the time and effort and money we spent on it would be a complete waste."

Her obsidian gaze was bottomless, and her leathery, wrinkled skin seemed to jump out at me. "A tragedy is going to happen, Dimka. I'm trying to save you from the fear and sadness that will strike. If you don't do as I command, lives will be at stake," she said slightly louder.

A sigh escaped my mouth. My head shook. "You're confused, Бабушка. A tragedy already happened when Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney's royal ship sank, and the ball wasn't canceled because of it," I told her.

"This is entirely different, my grandson. There's an evil force you can't afford to turn your back on it." I hated to admit it, yet her words chilled me to my very core—it was never simple ignoring my grandmother. "The one you love most will be vanquished if you're too late, Dimka, and the rest of your life will fall into a pit of mourning and despair."

My heart pounded in my chest. "Nothing's going to happen to her," I countered, trying to sound strong. "No one's after her." Surely, Бабушка's claims were an exaggeration. They had to be.

Tasha wasn't going to do something horrendous—she wasn't like her brother. Rose was always safe with me; there was no doubt she wasn't.

Right?

Suddenly, her words echoed in my mind: _There's a small part of me that doesn't believe I'm safe…_

I clenched my hands, avoiding Бабушка's unnerving gaze. _That's a lie. That's a lie. That's. A. Lie._

"Heed my warning," she whispered next. "Or someone's going to get hurt."

* * *

 **Will Christian eventually tell Lissa and Jill the truth, confront Lord Dragomir, or keep his promise?**

 **Has Rhea secretly joined forces with Tasha?**

 **Does Dimitri believe Yeva?**

 **Review current readers! New readers, please follow, fav, and review if you like the story! Thanks :)**

 **Until next time...**


	22. Chapter 22: Pain and Pleasure

**Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favs! It's much appreciated. This chapter is extra long, so be prepared to read and enjoy! :)**

 **Warning: this chapter contains sexual content**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

"Are you all right?" a concerned, feminine voice wondered.

I lifted my head against my lethargic body's wishes, feeling the complaint of my stiff bones and muscles. I felt so drained and restless—I had no clue if it was morning, afternoon, or evening. A yawn suddenly erupted from my mouth, and I rubbed my eyes, dazed and confused. "What time is it? Where am I?" I managed to speak.

The voice spoke again, this time informative, and I realized that it was Lissa. "It's half past noon, Rose," she told me. "Why on earth are you still in bed? You missed breakfast, and we're supposed to be having lunch."

I rolled off my stomach and sat up, meeting my stepsister's gaze. Her jade-green eyes were so curious and puzzled and worried…She deserved an explanation about why I slept in so late, or more precisely, barely slept at all. An unbearably haunting voice inside my head had been pestering me for approximately 12 hours, insisting that I wasn't going to enjoy the annual ball or even be able to attend.

That I wasn't safe.

"Rose, is something wrong?" Lissa questioned, quieter than before. She sat down next to me and put her hand over mine, lending me comfort. Her warmness was making it harder for me to resist saying anything; however, I kept silent. I didn't want my problem to become hers.

I faced her and shook my head, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. I was just really tired, that's all," I nonchalantly lied. Lissa narrowed her gaze, skeptical, but she eventually let the matter fade. I instantly started regretting my decision, but I couldn't undo it now. If she became aware of how I felt endangered, she could become a possible target of whatever scheme Tasha and Rhea were planning.

 _Stop thinking Rhea's her ally!_

My stepsister placed some platinum-blond hair behind her pale ear. It was loose and straight, falling to her small waist. She wore a light green dress with reflective gemstones stitched along the neckline, long sleeves, and a long skirt; a matching coat complemented her ensemble. It was perhaps the plainest thing I'd ever seen her in. "You should get dressed, Rose. A proper lady doesn't parade around in her nightclothes all day," she half-joked, half-lectured. I nodded and obeyed.

Going into the bathroom, I took a long, needed shower. When steam started accumulating, I ceased cleaning and dried my wet body and hair. Since fear still gripped me and that haunting, mental voice hadn't vanished, I decided to wear training attire—a loose, white shirt; fitting, black trousers; polished, brown boots; and a black, fur coat with a hood. I styled my luscious hair into a neat bun, applied lip gloss, and spritzed a minimal amount of perfume.

When I exited, Lissa's blond brows scrunched in confusion. "I said we were going out for lunch. Why aren't you dressed up?"

I merely replied, "I'm going to train with Cesarevich Dimitri after we eat."

"Oh, all right," she weirdly answered. She rose from my bed and exited the bedchamber with me following in her wake. I thought we were going to stop in the living room, however Lissa kept walking. She must've sensed my perplexity because she explained, "Jill and your father are waiting for us in the hallway."

We completely left the lodge room and found Father and Jill standing a few feet away. He looked dapper in his dark brown suit and white tie, his nearly black hair slicked to perfection. Those chestnut-brown eyes brightened when he saw me. "Rosemarie, my darling, we've been waiting forever for you to wake up," he exclaimed.

Jill nodded, her light brown hair swaying around her young face. It complemented her smooth, purple dress and white, fur coat. "We were a bit worried, so we had Lissa check on you once we came back from breakfast. Now that you're awake, we're happy to see that you're better." _Sure, we'll all believe I'm in a wonderful mood._

"I'm sorry that I caused such uneasiness," I apologized, feeling a little meek. "I didn't mean to."

Father walked up to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. His voice was soft and sweet. "There's no need to feel so terrible, Rosemarie. Now, you must be especially hungry, so let us all hurry and eat lunch." I suddenly noticed the aching hollowness of my empty stomach—food sounded like a terrific idea.

We departed the lodge without further discussion, waiting for a carriage that'd take us to a nearby restaurant. It was lightly snowing; flakes of chilling ice fell to the ground, coating the buildings and earth in a pure, stark white. The air was cold and fresh while a slight wind blew—it was insane how harsh the Russian winter could be.

A carriage shortly arrived, and an ordinary, Russian coachman climbed down to open the rectangular door. "All aboard," he said in an immensely thick, accent, nodding in greeting as we entered. The interior was decent and reasonably spaced; there were leather seats, soft curtains, and carpet flooring.

The ride wasn't long, for we stopped at a small, Russian café near our lodge. The coachman parked in front of the establishment and opened the door again, bidding us goodbye as we exited. Father thanked him and gave him money for his services.

When we walked inside the café, a bumbling hostess with pale skin, blond hair, and light eyes welcomed us. She was quite nice and beautiful—she strangely reminded me of Lissa. "Hello and welcome, everyone," the woman greeted in a strong, Russian accent. She then solely focused her attention on Father. "Is this the whole party?"

"Yes."

"Perfect!" The hostess grabbed some menus and had us follow her further into the restaurant, which already had a significant amount of clientele. I looked at the tables we passed, my mouth salivating as I saw hot bread, authentic dishes, and drinks. I couldn't wait to sit down and fill my stomach until it was ready to burst—my family was right; I had slept for far too long.

I'd become so distracted staring at everyone else's meals that I didn't realize we arrived at our dining table. The hostess placed our menus before us once we took our seats. "Your waiter will be here shortly. Enjoy!" she informed, leaving with a pleasant smile.

Once she was out of sight, Jill mused, "Did anyone else notice how much she resembled Lissa?"

We nodded in agreement. Lissa even commented, "It was like I was looking into a mirror."

My younger stepsister reached for the menu and picked it up, pulling it open to look for food she wanted to order. Her pretty face scrunched as she pondered. "I wonder what tastes good here…Stepfather, do you've any suggestions?" she asked.

Father was quite familiar with Russian culture, due to the fact that he had traveled there plentifully when his father was preparing him for lordship. He never ceased visiting once he became one—it was fair to say he was an expert. He opened his own menu and started turning the pages. "I've never eaten here before, however I already like borscht, Pelmeni, and Beef Stroganoff," he told her. "I'm sure those will taste fine here."

Lissa, Jill, and I nodded in interest. "That sounds scrumptious," Jill responded. She placed the menu down. "I'm going to order the Beef Stroganoff."

As soon as that was announced, our waiter appeared in a simple black uniform with a white apron. He was tall and lightly tanned, with dark, cropped hair and gray eyes. A notepad and quill were in his slim hands. "Welcome to the Little Moscow Café. I am Sergei and will be tending to you today. What can I start you off with?" he introduced in an accent thicker than the hostess'.

We ordered everything all at once—my stepsisters and I wanted water with lemon and Beef Stroganoff, while Father wanted beer and Pelmeni. Sergei recorded our requests and hurried away to deliver them to the chefs.

While we waited, Lissa plastered a wide smile on her face. Her jade-green eyes seemed to jump out of their sockets. "I can't believe the annual ball is happening tomorrow!" she gushed semi-squeakily. "It's like this event is impossible to be indifferent about, despite me courting Christian and Cesarevich Dimitri favoring Rose."

"Lissa, can you please keep your voice down?" I hissed, giving her a fierce look. "Other people don't need to know that I'm most likely going to be his betrothed." Sure enough, some of our fellow customers were glancing over at us, intrigued and curious.

She fell sheepish and seemed to shrink. "Sorry," she apologized at a lower volume.

Father rose an eyebrow at me. "What makes you think Cesarevich Dimitri will ask you to marry him?" he challenged, his chestnut-brown eyes gleaming under the dim lighting. His words were like poison to my ears. I didn't understand why he was being so skeptical all of a sudden. Father liked the Belikovs, and he knew that Cesarevich Dimitri and I were technically courting, which he didn't have a problem with, unlike my past courtship with Prince Adrian.

Growing agitated, I spat, "How could you accuse him of manipulating me by creating the illusion that we'd be getting married?" It seriously damaged my feelings that he believed such a thing. Cesarevich Dimitri would never play with my emotions, and he most certainly would never hurt me.

Father quickly realized this, for his tanned, aging face became apologetic. His voice was soft, and he grabbed my hand. "Rosemarie, I didn't mean to make you upset. I was just trying to test your concept of reality. I know that Cesarevich Dimitri would never deceive you; however, things can happen," he paternalistically reasoned. "Especially since he was supposed to remain neutral in the first place."

I snatched my hand away and glared at the wooden table.

Lissa and Jill didn't dare say anything, and I was grateful, because I was definitely going to end up snapping at them. I hated listening to what Father had to say—I knew he was only looking after his beloved daughter, but it rooted worry and insecurity and fear in my mind. I didn't need that, especially since I already didn't feel safe with Lady Natasha and my stepmother lurking about.

Finally, Sergei returned with our steaming, hot food and set the plates in front of us. He then said, "I'll be back with your beverages and a basket of black bread." We thanked him and began stuffing our mouths.

The Beef Stroganoff tasted amazing, probably because I was so famished. The meat was tender, the noodles were soft, and the sauce was rich and creamy. When Sergei came back again, my plate was already empty, and my hand went straight to the bread basket. His gray eyes widened. "My goodness, I've never seen a woman so…hungry before," he breathed.

Father informed, "She didn't eat breakfast this morning, so please excuse her."

"As you wish, sir." Our waiter left, and we continued to eat in silence until everyone was finished with their meals. Father asked for the check, paid it, and left a sufficient tip before we exited the café, which was now extremely crowded.

The atmosphere felt tense and awkward once we were outside—the cloudy sky and drifting snow did nothing to ease our discomfort. After blankly staring into the distance for a few moments, I faced Father and told him, "I'm going to the royal palace."

He started reaching into his beige coat's pocket. "I'll give you some money, so you can grab a carriage," he obliged. "As always, be back by sundown."

"It's okay. I'd rather walk," I objected.

He pursed his lips and clenched his jaw. "Rosemarie, you'll get sick if you don't do as I tell you," Father argued in a stern voice.

Jill approached me, her jade-green eyes confused. "You're not coming to the lodge with us? I thought we were going to prepare for the annual ball together," she said.

Lissa answered before I could. Her voice was unpleasant. "She has other plans."

I shot my blond stepsister a powerful glare before replying, "Stop fretting. I'm coming back." And with that, I walked away.

* * *

 **DPOV**

I was lying on my bed, staring at the dark canopy above me, when someone timidly knocked on my door. I curiously rose and strode over, opening its mahogany structure to discover a young servant dressed in simple cloth and leather, no older than fourteen. His hazel eyes were wide as his pubescent voice shook. "There's someone who wants to see you, your imperial highness," he stammered. "Her name is Rosemarie Mazur."

As soon as he said that, my heart accelerated, and my mind scattered. Rose wanted to see me, and I was a goddamn mess—my hair was tangled, my clothes were wrinkled and limp, and my skin had been pale ever since Бабушка had told me her haunting vision this morning; I hadn't bathed or even left my bedchamber.

There was no chance Rose was going to witness me like this.

"Tell her to wait for a few minutes and come back here after you inform her," I ordered the boy, who swiftly nodded and practically ran out of the room.

I shook my head and closed the door. Why was he so afraid of me?

That annoying conscience of mine whispered, _He knows who your father is, and he secretly believes you're the same way._

I shut my eyes. _Be quiet, you intangible bastard!_

It snickered. _You know I'm right…_

Growling in frustration, I decided to quickly bathe and put on some fresh clothes and cologne. I brushed my hair and left it loose to hang at my shoulders. Once I was finished making sure I looked presentable, the boy servant knocked on my door again. I rushed over and opened it. "I'm ready to see her. You can lead her here," I told him.

"Of course, my prince." He disappeared, and I waited anxiously, barely able to contain myself until he finally appeared for the last time with Rose next to him. She was shivering erratically, her plump lips colored with a hint of blue, her normally vibrant skin pale and bleak.

I thanked the servant without looking at him and hurriedly brought Rose into my bedchamber, closing the door behind us. I gripped her upper arms and stared her in the eye. "Did you walk all the way to the palace?" I asked her, even though I already knew the answer. I just wanted her to admit the truth.

She nodded, averting her gaze. "Yes," she lowly replied. A vicious sneeze wracked her body, and I jerked away to avoid getting blasted. Rose sniffled and concaved.

My hand instantaneously caressed her precious face, which felt cold under my touch. "Why didn't you take a carriage, and why aren't you wearing a hat? It's freezing outside," I interrogated, flabbergasted at her lack of common sense. A thought suddenly came to me, and I wondered, "Where's your family?"

"They're at the lodge," Rose answered. A bitter, harsh laugh erupted from her mouth. "My father said the same thing, and he warned that I would get sick."

Exasperated, I demanded, "How come you didn't listen to him?"

"Because he wouldn't listen to me," she shot back, her body tense and chestnut-brown eyes darker than usual. I just stood there, watching her and expecting an explanation. Rose sighed and walked over to my bed, sitting down on the silk, blood-red sheets. I followed her and stopped at one of its black posts, leaning against it.

"What did he not want to hear?" I softly pressed.

Rose shivered again and embraced herself to keep warm. "Lissa started talking about how she was excited for the annual ball and mentioned how you favored me. It drew some attention, and I told her that people didn't need to know that I had the best chance at being your wife and future czarina. That's when my father said that there could be a possibility you wouldn't want to marry me," she revealed, sounding angry and irritated.

I knew she wouldn't want to hear this, yet I believed Lord Mazur was right. Just because we were courting didn't mean I wanted us to be married. Hell, I wasn't supposed to be courting her to begin with. Yet, I loved Roza with all my heart, and I was absolutely going to have her be my lucky lady at the end of the annual ball. Though, she had to remain realistic about the whole situation. I was sure that was all her father desired.

I came to the side of my bed and sat down next to her. I reached for her hand and intertwined our fingers, fighting the bite of her cold flesh. "Roza, look at me." She did, her beautiful eyes large and sparkling. I took a deep breath before saying, "Your father was just being a father. He was teaching you a lesson, and that lesson was about realism. He didn't mean to get you upset or ruin your dreams."

It took her a while to respond, but she finally did, albeit stubbornly. "I suppose…"

I internally chuckled and shook my head. _Adolescent females…_

"My clothes are fairly wet, and I'm still quite cold," Rose changed the subject. "Do you mind if I clean up and switch into something warmer and dryer?"

I decided not to return to the previous topic. "Not at all. I have just the thing." I rose from the bed and went to my wooden wardrobe, which was adjacent to the door, rummaging through old clothes from my adolescence and childhood. After searching for a few moments, I found a white sweater with black trousers and a brown belt—I thought Rose should have clothes that were the same color as her own, from what I could tell. I went back to her and handed them over. "You can change in my bathroom."

She smiled. "Thank you so much, Dimitri."

Rose got up and started walking away, but before she was out of sight, I told her, "We need to talk after you come out."

"Okay." Curiosity and concern were evident in her voice.

She was clearly desperate to know what I had on my mind, for she changed impressively fast. Rose hung her fanciful, fur coat in my wardrobe, and her darkest brown hair was now loose, falling to her slender waist in perfect waves. My former clothes nicely fitted her curvy frame, and I couldn't stop staring at her as she came to me.

"What's going on?" Rose urged, wasting no time.

"We should sit down." She agreed, crossing her legs and facing me once she was situated. I clutched the bed's blood-red sheets for strength and comfort. I didn't want to discuss this, but I couldn't simply ignore it—it was too important. "My grandmother spoke with me this morning," I slowly began, "and she said something very disturbing."

Rose's dark eyebrows arched in surprise. "I thought she was dead."

"No, but she is very old. Her name is Yeva Belikova, and you haven't met her because she doesn't like having company without a significant purpose. She'll introduce herself tomorrow at the ball." Rose nodded and waited for more. "Anyway, my grandmother has visions, and she only tells others about them if they're immensely serious."

My love looked at me as if I was insane. "Dimitri, her 'visions' are most likely not real. You can't possibly believe all of the outlandish things she tells you."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. "Rose, you don't know her. Every time she's had a vision, it's happened. My grandmother has striking accuracy, and I'm sure you'll believe the vision she told me today," I countered.

She crossed her arms. "What is it?"

"Brace yourself," I warned. Rose froze immediately, afraid and statuesque. "She claimed that a tragedy would occur tomorrow night, and 'the one I love most' would be gone if I was too late. She even told me to cancel the annual ball."

I dreadfully watched Rose pale by the second. Her dark eyes seemed blank and bottomless; her entire soul must've felt as if it shattered. She wouldn't move or speak, and I was beginning to think she would pass out until…three words left her mouth in a haunted whisper. "I knew it."

"Roza. It's okay." Was it? Was it, really?

Her eyes watered, and a single tear slid free and travelled down her smooth cheek and chin and neck, disappearing into the shirt I'd given her. "No it's not," she sobbed this time. "This is going to be my last, full day of life." Rose closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

Saying anything else wouldn't help, so I pulled her onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her. I stroked her hair and held her tight as she quaked and quaked until I heard the crying cease and felt her calm.

Rose lifted her head and stared at me, her eyes bloodshot. While she still appeared unstable, her voice was certain. "Make love to me."

Taken aback, I stared at her wide-eyed. "Rose, nothing's going to happen to you. You'll always be safe as long as I'm alive. There's no need to be so rash," I tried to reason. I then softened my tone and posture, adding, "Besides, don't you want our night together to be at a more special time? I think tomorrow would be more appropriate, and it's not far away."

She closed some of the distance between us, and her eyes pierced mine. "There might not be a tomorrow. Do you seriously want to take that chance?" she retorted. I was still reluctant, and she sensed it, so she cupped my face and lowered her voice. "Dimitri, I don't want to leave this world before I'm intimate with you. It would kill me if that happened, and you'd be feeling the same way. If we claimed each other's bodies now, we'd have the chance to feel complete before tragedy rips us apart."

My opposition weakened dramatically; I hated when she used that sort of logic. It was one of the characteristics that made her Rose. We gazed at each other for several moments before she leaned in and had our lips collide. I didn't challenge her anymore as lust overpowered me.

 **M Scene**

Our tongues danced erotically during the heated kiss, and the atmosphere quickly blossomed into a realm of passion and euphoria. My lips left Rose's, and they journeyed to her jaw and neck, torturing the skin with light yet stimulating kisses. When she moaned, it was like I was hearing my favorite music. I could honestly listen to her like that forever.

Before we reached the point where we couldn't stop, I pulled away and met her gaze. It was wild and ravenous and aroused. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Rose didn't hesitate. She grabbed my hand and guided it into her shirt and lacy brassiere, placing it on her generous breast. My breath caught in my throat. "What do you think?"

I kissed her hard and hungrily, my fingers massaging her soft breast and squeezing her nipple. She moaned louder and had her hands go to my own chest, caressing its muscular surface, sending fiery pleasure throughout my veins.

We soon sent our hands to our clothes. Like savage beasts, we practically ripped our shirts and trousers apart, marveling at how the other one looked. Rose was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, but in her lacy brassiere and bloomers, she seemed like a goddess with her voluptuous breasts, hourglass waist, and girt hips.

She was speechless at my mostly bare form, absorbing my broad shoulders and chest and narrow waist and hips, each section defined and lean well enough to please any female. I gently pulled her to me and stroked her face, kissing her gingerly this time. We continued kissing for a few more moments before I removed her undergarments.

Rose quickly covered herself; however, I slowly moved her arms away. She relaxed as she realized I appreciated how she looked naked, and she decided that she was brave enough to remove mine.

I pushed her back onto the bed and laid on top of her, my erection pressing into her lower stomach. She gasped at its length and hardness, and male pride couldn't help but course through me. She then kissed me again and wrapped her legs around my waist, ready for us to become one.

I slowly eased myself inside her, considerate and careful. Rose tensed at the intrusion, but I continued kissing and caressing her until she grew comfortable.

I decided to increase the pace until I was thrusting into pleasurable oblivion. Our moans echoed off the dark walls, and her nails dug into my back as I felt her clench around me, spurring our simultaneous release. It was one of the best feelings I'd felt in a long time.

 **End M Scene**

When we recovered, I rolled off of her and covered our bodies with the sheets. I pulled Rose into an embrace and traced patterns all over her skin. She hummed in satisfaction and said, "I love you, Dimitri."

I kissed her temple. "I love you too, Roza. Forever and always."

We stayed intertwined for about an hour before she told me she had to get back to the lodge. I was sad that she couldn't stay with me for the night; however, I agreed nonetheless and got dressed with her. I walked her to the palace entrance and ordered a lingering coachman to take her to her family.

"I wish I could be with you, but my father is expecting me to be back before sundown, and I don't want to anger him any further," Rose said, a hint of fear tainting her voice. I looked up at the sky. The clouds were almost imperceptible from the darkness.

I nodded and gave her one, final embrace. "Be cautious, and be safe. That's all you can do. That's all anyone can do."

She uttered the quietest whimper. "I'll try."

* * *

 **Hopefully, you understand why their first time together happened right now.**

 **Good news: the annual ball and results of Yeva's vision is in the next chapter! :)**

 **Let me know what you think, current and new readers!**

 **New readers, also follow and fav if you like the story. Thanks!**

 **Until next time...**


	23. Chapter 23: Tragedy

**Thank you for the follows and favorites! Now, I know I said the annual ball would be in the next update, but I thought it would be best to split Ch 23 into two parts, so you guys could see what happens with Rose and then follow Dimitri's reaction. Enjoy reading! :)**

 **Warning: this chapter contains violence**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **RPOV**

 **January 9** **th** **, 1686**

 **Today is the day where my precious dreams will come true. I am going to spend a magical evening with Cesarevich Dimitri, the dearest love of my life. We will dine and wine and dance the night away, with the stars and moon as our most ethereal spectators.**

 **Even though there will be hundreds, probably thousands of guests at the annual ball, it will feel like it is only me and him. However, these experiences will only occur if I am indeed alive to live them, and according to Ms. Yeva Belikova, his clairvoyant grandmother, I am going to have to kiss the world and everyone I know goodbye.**

 **Unless I somehow change my fate.**

 **If there is a next time,**

 **Rosemarie Mazur**

I wrote the entry early in the morning, and the dark quill and velvety journal almost felt foreign in my hands. It seemed as if I hadn't recorded my thoughts in a long time; however, it was probably just my imagination.

The rest of the morning and afternoon flew before my eyes. Father, Jill, Lissa, and I had eaten breakfast and talked about Rhea (it was draining), eaten lunch and talked about Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney (it was optimistic), and were now back in the lodge room, preparing for this evening's event.

A combined feeling of excitement and fear tormented my body, and I hated it—I was so jittery, so scattered inside. Was feeling completely positive today too much to ask?

"Tonight is going to be absolutely unforgettable," Lissa gushed to me and Jill in the bedchamber we shared. A wide smile pulled at her rosy lips. "It's time to get dolled up, ladies. We do _not_ want to be late." She went to the wardrobe and pulled out the gowns we were going to wear.

My stepsisters and I took turns washing our bodies in the bathroom. When that step was through, we reentered all at once, clad in plush, cotton robes, and stood in front of the wide mirror, applying makeup and doing our hair.

My eyeliner and mascara was pure black; my eyeshadow had layers of shades of brown; my lipstick was fiery-red; my foundation was light, and my blush was a soft, dark pink. I styled my hair into tight curls that fell over one shoulder and put in a pearl clip. When that was done, I went into the bedchamber and grabbed my gown.

It was obsidian-black, with fitting, lacy, long sleeves and a flowing skirt and petticoat that accommodated my hips. There was a sweetheart neckline that displayed just enough cleavage, and shimmering designs decorated the gown, giving it an elegant yet dark appearance. White pearls adorned my ears, neck, and hand. I also wore simple, black heels.

Lissa gasped in amazement when she saw me. "Oh my god, Rose. You look stunning!" She did herself, with a silky, lavender gown that had three-quarter length sleeves and smooth ridges, falling to the floor and covering her white heels. Her platinum-blond hair was loose and straight, falling to her slender waist. Crystal jewelry completed her ensemble.

"Thanks," I said sweetly. "You do as well."

Jill then suddenly appeared, completely ready. She wore a turquoise gown with short, puffy sleeves and a fine, voluminous skirt, faint sparkles brightening the fabric; white, long, princess gloves covered her skinny arms. Her light brown hair was in a crown braid neatly pinned away from her youthful, pale face; diamond jewelry glittered on her skin. "How do I look?" she wondered, twirling as a wide smile dominated her features.

Lissa and I answered, "How do you look? You look heart-stopping gorgeous!"

Jill blushed before suggesting, "Let's go see if Father is ready." We nodded and checked our look one, final time before strutting into the living room. Sure enough, Father was completely dressed in a crisp, black suit and matching, polished dress shoes. His darkest brown hair and goatee was short and slick, and his chestnut-brown eyes shimmered when he took sight of us.

"My goodness," he breathed. "I'm at a loss for words." He then rose from the vintage couch and pulled us all into a loving embrace. "You girls are so beautiful…if only your mothers could see you now," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

When I pulled away, his eyes were watery. I smiled and cupped his tanned face. "It's okay, Father. We'll encounter them again, when the time comes," I assured him. My stepsisters inputted similar words and gave him embraces from the side.

He nodded and wiped his eyes with a silk handkerchief that was stuffed in his jacket pocket. "You're right, girls. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I said.

Once he recovered, Father threw the used cloth away and clapped his hands, putting on a dazzling grin. "All right, ladies. It's time to head to the royal palace," he exclaimed, provoking bounces and squealing from Lissa and Jill, who were beginning to seem like little girls. Father then grabbed his pocket watch and some emergency money before ushering us out of the lodge.

The outside air was fresh and wild; the clouds above were gray and thick and full of snow, which also coated the earth in soft, inviting sheets. Our surroundings were imperceptible, save for the silhouettes carved under the nearby, burning lamplights. I faintly recognized horses standing a few feet away, harnessed to a large carriage.

A man with a Russian accent, most likely the coachman, spoke. "Where are you folks headed?"

"The royal palace. Tonight is the Belikovs' annual ball," Father said.

 _And perhaps my death…_

"Ah, yes. What a splendid way to enjoy one's evening," the coachman commented. I heard him open the carriage door, and my family climbed in. Before he shut it, I clutched Father's arm and diminished our proximity.

"I'm going back to the lodge room. I think I forgot something." He furrowed his brows but let me go nonetheless, closing the carriage door so they wouldn't freeze while waiting for me.

I walked into the lodge, rubbing my arms and blowing into my hands. There were multiple people on the first floor, and given their extravagant appearances, I assumed they were annual ball guests. I smiled as I weaved through them, earning wonderful comments and pleased gazes.

Once I entered an empty, ornate hallway, I started getting a strange feeling that someone was following me. It could've just been my nerves, but it seemed too quiet, as if that someone was being all too careful with keeping track of me.

My heart thumped against my ribcage. What if it was Tasha? I looked over my shoulder…but no one was in sight. Apprehensive, I quickened my pace to a swift walk.

I keened my hearing for the remainder of my journey and almost immediately, I noticed light, deft footsteps coming from behind me. I instinctively began jogging, trying to put distance between me and this stranger.

I wasn't that successful, though, because my noise told them to quicken their pace also. I disregarded the jogging and just ran altogether—I was sure this was a matter of life and death—but I could hear them gaining ground. I turned corners and took long routes to the lodge room, hoping that someone would notice my conflict. Yet, there was no one else I came across.

"Shit," I muttered. I was doomed.

After running some more, I arrived at the lodge room and hurriedly opened the door to get inside, but once I turned around, the stranger was behind me. I screamed. They closed the door and stared at me with a dark, predatory gaze.

Wait a minute, this person's eyes were dark?

The stranger sinisterly chuckled; it felt like venomous snakes were slithering all over my skin. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Rosemarie. I know you were expecting Lady Ozera, but don't worry, you'll see her again," they said in a masculine, disturbing voice that was heavily accented.

My blood ran cold. My voice trembled, but I tried to make myself strong. "My family will come for me."

He cruelly laughed and belittlingly rolled his eyes. "They're on their way to the royal palace. I overheard the coachman saying you were taking too long, and you'd have to come to the ball on your own."

I paled instantly, frozen in my place. There was no chance I was going to escape this man alive before someone could save me, and he knew it. Hell, he was reveling in it and rubbing it in my face. I should probably say my prayers now and give up the fight. After all, Ms. Yeva Belikova did say a tragedy would be my fate.

The man stalked towards me, and for the first time, I realized he was freakishly tall. That dark, penetrating gaze was the only feature of him I could see before he removed his cotton cap and pulled down the thick, black scarf that covered his mouth. Short, medium-brown hair with streaks of gold was revealed; sharp, pale, and fairly aged features popped out at me.

He looked awfully familiar, and when I met his gaze again, I knew exactly who he was. My fear turned into anger. "You're Cesarevich Dimitri's sad excuse for a father," I spat. I wanted to hurt this vile beast for all of the pain and suffering he'd caused his family.

He glared at me, and I shrunk away, no longer courageous. "I prefer to be addressed as Czar Aleksandr Belikov," he growled.

Suddenly, I remembered my training. I'd been practicing combat and self-defense for months, and now was the time to use it. This wasn't going to be like fighting someone who didn't want to kill me. This was real. I needed to make Cesarevich Dimitri proud, but most importantly, I had to fight for my right to survive.

 **M Scene**

As he reached for my loose hair, I dodged his grip and sent a swift kick to his stomach, despite my long dress. Cesarevich Dimitri's father winced at my shoe's heel meeting his body, but only for a second. An unnerving smile pulled at his thin lips. "If it's a battle you want," he sneered, "a battle you shall receive."

Like a cobra, Czar Aleksandr's fist struck out, barely missing my face. That hit would've surely smeared my makeup and disoriented me. I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, hearing him yelp in pain before he pushed me away with his large body.

I stumbled but regained my footing right when he charged. I threw a powerful kick, which he deftly blocked, and immediately sent a brutal punch his way. Czar Aleksandr dodged that also, much to my frustration, and as he was about to pass me, I decided to simply trip him.

He fell like a tree, and I wanted to laugh but decided against it. A loud thud slightly shook the room, and I was about to stomp him with my deadly heel, yet he grabbed my foot and pushed, having me fly back and almost collide with one of the glass tables.

Before I could get up, Czar Aleksandr gripped my hair and pulled my head back. "Nice try," he whispered, "but you're no match for the ruler of Russia." He then wrapped his arms around me and lifted my body, squeezing it as he went to one of the bedchambers. I tried to jerk and bite, but nothing worked, and fear seized me.

He threw me down on the bed and I tried to kick him again, but he caught my ankle and got on top of me with his large, heavy body, lifting my dress and spreading my legs. He stroked my face with a gloved finger, a crooked smile tainting his face. "I'm supposed to be hanging you, dear Rosemarie, but I want to have a little fun before I do," he hummed.

 _Oh god. No…_

I whimpered as he began licking my face and biting my neck, groping my breasts and slamming his manhood into the vulnerable area between my thighs. I couldn't believe this was happening to me—this man was such a monster; I could only imagine what Cesarevich Dimitri and his family had to go through.

When he was done with his awful ministrations, I had blue-black bruises and red, bite marks. Czar Aleksandr climbed off of me and maliciously grinned as he took off a dark brown coat he was apparently wearing. I gasped at his muscular and stalwart physique, my eyes passing venous and striated limbs. He was just as well-built as his son.

My amazement fled when I noticed what was underneath his coat's exterior: gleaming daggers, sinuous rope, and a daunting whip. I gulped and shivered as he set up his weapons, too weak and violated to move.

"All right, Rosemarie," he purred sickeningly. "It's time for the real work to begin." My attacker ripped off all my clothing until I was naked and pushed me off the bed. I groaned in pain as the chilling, hardwood floor caught my fall. Czar Aleksandr gripped my arms and threw me onto a sturdy, polished chair that was in the room. I sunk into myself, feeling like a small, hurt, and defeated child.

Before I could even blink, he had my hands tied behind my back and my feet tied to the chair's legs—my skin was burning viciously from the rope. He squeezed my face in between his large hands, sending more stings of pain throughout my body. "When I slice and whip you, I want you to scream, do you understand me?" he growled.

I didn't respond.

Czar Aleksandr slapped me across the cheek, scattering my vision and earning my cries. His eyes were bottomless pits of sadism and apathy. "I said, 'do you understand me', you hardheaded bitch?" he repeated.

I nodded slightly. Cesarevich Dimitri's father waited no longer and inflicted unbearable amounts of torture. He ran the dagger along the skin of my arms, chest, abdomen, and legs. I sobbed and screamed as the pain worsened, unable to find a way to make myself feel better.

I couldn't even think of Father, Lissa, or Jill. Cesarevich Dimitri or his family. Prince Adrian or Princess Sydney. Christian, Mason, Eddie, or Mia. Not even my deceased mother.

The only thing that kept swimming in my mind was that life was over for me, and my happily ever after would never happen.

When Czar Aleksandr finally put the dulled, bloody dagger down, he immediately got the whip, which was dark brown, thick, and long. When he lashed me, I screamed even louder as I felt my skin rip open and more precious blood seep from the new and existing wounds. I cried and cried as my body became covered in dark red.

Cesarevich Dimitri's father finally had enough with torturing, for he wiped his sweaty forehead and let go of the deteriorating, bloody whip. He fetched the rest of the rope and grabbed another chair, pulling the piece of furniture until it was placed under the crystal chandelier. Czar Aleksandr climbed onto it and deftly made the noose before coming to me and freeing me from my chair.

I couldn't move. I was so wounded and weak...I couldn't believe my emotional pain wasn't enough to kill me.

He picked me up and carried me over to the chair, stabilizing my footing on the seat as he wrapped the noose around my neck. Even though it wasn't suffocating me yet, my heart still raced at the feel of it touching me.

"Are you ready to die?" Czar Aleksandr casually questioned. He darkly laughed when I didn't answer. "Of course not." A knock suddenly sounded in the living room, and hope blossomed within me—what if it was a savior coming to my rescue?

Cesarevich Dimitri's father gave me a sneer before going to answer the front door. I heard him say, "You'll be extremely pleased when you see what I've done to her," and my hope and spirit dissipated. It was over. Seriously, truthfully over.

Tasha was here.

I heard the door slam shut, and excited footsteps followed. After a few seconds, Tasha and Czar Aleksandr entered the bedchamber. She was as gorgeous as ever, with her loose and sleek, raven-black hair that flowed to her waist and ice-blue eyes that caused the pain of a thousand swords. A promiscuous, sapphire-blue dress clung to her pale, slender body; a black, fur coat and hat covered her head; black, velvety gloves hid her hands.

"Hello, Rosemarie. How are you?" Tasha asked, feigning innocence.

I frowned at her. I wished I could hurt, even kill, that unforgivably monstrous bitch.

She chuckled and stalked towards me until she stood directly in front of me. Her crystalline gaze was appreciative and victorious as she observed my critical wounds. "You did a splendid job, your majesty." Her voice was weirdly entranced.

Czar Aleksandr smiled with twisted pride. "What can I say? It's my specialty."

Tasha's hand suddenly came forward, and a finger shot out to wipe some of my freshly spilled blood. Staring me straight in the eye, she slowly lifted her finger to her mouth and tasted the blood like the demented person she was. "You have some very healthy blood, Rosemarie," she said demonically.

I cringed.

She rubbed her hands together before asking, "Do you have any last words before we take your life?"

I gave her the fiercest glare I could and darkened my voice. "I hope you suffer for the rest of your pathetic life and die and rot in loneliness. I also hope you burn in Hell. You think that Cesarevich Dimitri will love you after he finds out about this? Well, you're sadly mistaken. He'll hate you _forever_ and never want to see you again. As for Christian, he will be ashamed of you and consider you a disgrace to your family. Why can't you see that you'll gain absolutely nothing from this, you insane, undeserving bitch?"

Tasha froze in her place. Czar Aleksandr stared at her as a single tear slid down her pale, mangled cheek. In another situation, I'd feel sorry for her, but right now, she deserved all the pain I'd just inflicted.

She broke out of her reverie, her body livid and lips curled in an evil snarl. "You don't understand, do you? If you're out of the picture, that alone will be my happily ever after." She then slapped me across the face, and I cried out and spit out blood. My head was spinning. "I've had enough, your excellency. Kill her."

"With pleasure." Czar Aleksandr strode over and pressed his lips to my ear. I whimpered. "My son should've never fallen in love with you," he whispered. He then stared at me coldly and kicked the chair out from under me.

Instantly, the noose tightened around my neck, crushing my trachea and having me gasp for air. I tried clawing at the rope, so I could breathe, but that only made the struggle worse. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my vision blurred and darkened.

 _My family and friends, may you never forget me. Cesarevich Dimitri, may you love me forever. Mother, I can't wait to see you again. God, my life is yours…_

As soon as I finished my brief prayer, the surrounding world turned to black.

* * *

 **I know, it's a cliffhanger. Part Two will have the annual ball and everyone's discovery of Rose.**

 **Don't forget to review everyone! Tell me what ya think :)**

 **New readers, follow and fav if you like the story. Thanks!**

 **Until next time...**


	24. Chapter 24: The Discovery

**I'm finally back! I'm terribly sorry for being on hiatus this long; I feel so bad, especially with the massive cliffhanger I gave you guys. School was taking up my time, and I got writer's block. Everything that was coming to mind, while I had free time, wasn't working, and I just stopped writing for a while. I should've warned you all about it, but I didn't, and it's completely my fault for not doing so. I understand if any of you decide to stop reading my work, after what I did. And, if you decide to stick with me, I appreciate it so much. With that said, thank you so much for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter! XD**

 **Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy**

* * *

 **DPOV**

My royal dresser eased me into an ornate, pure-white jacket adorned with numerous, silver buttons that vertically ran down my torso. Black fur lined its collar and hems, while metallic patterns swirled in between. Black trousers covered my legs, tucked into equally dark, knee-length boots decorated with lighter swirls. My brown hair fell around my face, lightly brushing my shoulders, as a lavish headpiece stood a foot tall atop my skull.

"You look incredibly handsome, your imperial highness," my royal dresser said in Russian, his eyes glowing with pride. "The maidens will certainly admire the outfit I've put together for you tonight." I gave him a smile, my body filling with nervous excitement as I thought of Rose. I couldn't wait for her to see me tonight—I had enough faith that бабушки's vision wouldn't come true—and marvel at how much effort I'd put into looking attractive for her.

Yet, most importantly, I couldn't wait to see her.

"They absolutely will," I agreed in Russian, my mind still on Rose. "Thank you for your services."

My royal dresser bowed, flashing his balding head. "You're immensely welcome, your majesty." He was about to exit my bedchamber; however, he paused when his gloved hand clutched the gold doorknob. He swiftly turned around, his cerulean-blue eyes wide. "I almost forgot! I still need to put on your jewelry, your excellency," he remembered.

I nodded, and my royal dresser hurried to the jewelry box on my dresser, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. He came over to me with two rings. "Can you please hold out your hands, your imperial highness?"

I did as I was told, and he slid a silver, ruby-encrusted ring onto each of my ring fingers. My jaw clenched while my mouth grew dry. Out of all the rings that I possessed, why had the royal dresser picked ones that had belonged to my father? I honestly thought I had gotten rid of them, but I supposed my purge wasn't thorough enough. I couldn't believe I had these wretched pieces of jewelry wrapped around my fingers.

 _You can't escape him,_ my conscience whispered. _No matter how hard you try, he'll still be a part of your life…_

"Your majesty, is something the matter?" the royal dresser concernedly wondered. His voice freed me from the one that lurked inside my head, and I faced him. How could he not have known those rings had been my father's? Didn't he understand that I didn't want to be reminded of him?

I almost snapped at him, but the cluelessness that swam in his eyes prevented me from doing so. There was no way my royal dresser could've known. He wouldn't have remembered all the things my father had worn, especially since he hadn't been his primary dresser. He had only dressed him a handful of times.

 _How foolish of me…_

Making sure my expression was nonchalant, I shook my head. "No. Everything is fine." My royal dresser stood frozen in skeptical silence, and time dragged on like a limp leg. I didn't know whether to say something else or remain quit; he seemed like he was going to continue questioning me. Fortunately, my uncertainty vanished once he finally spoke.

"All right, then. Have a wonderful evening, your majesty. I hope this year's ball is a success!" my royal dresser wished. My blood chilled as I heard his words. It was almost like he knew about бабушки's frightening vision, about the harm that might befall Rose. She and I were the only ones who knew, but maybe others deserved to know as well. It'd help keep Rose safer and possibly foil Tasha's apparently wicked plans.

However, maybe others already knew. Maybe Rose had told her family about her worries, and they had everything under control. Maybe it was definite she was going to come to the annual ball…

I wanted to believe this theory, but the previous one was much more accurate. Rose and I were most likely the only people aware of бабушки's dark prophecy. I needed to just expect the worst…

No! I couldn't do that. Not tonight.

I needed to be in a jovial mood, for the sake of my guests. I had no time to be distracted by a vision. That could be reserved for tomorrow, because my royal dresser had been right.

This annual ball _had_ to be a success.

* * *

I sat on a golden, jewel-encrusted throne that was placed on a dais in the ballroom. My mother and sisters were seated next to me in identical thrones, clad in the most beautiful gowns they owned. A heavily embellished crown sat atop my mother's shiny, brown hair, glittering underneath the chandeliers' light. We always took our royal appearance above and beyond for this occasion.

It was important to market the opulence of a palace when one needed a bride.

Countless maidens, young and old, poured into the ballroom, eager to meet me and my family. Their eyes widened in awe as they spectated every decoration, amazed at seeing a place so unfathomably extravagant. I scanned each face, searching for Rose, hoping that she was among the endless sea of eligible ladies. Unfortunately, my eyes didn't find their desired object.

She wasn't here.

Fighting the disappointment and fear that were arising within me, I leaned towards my mother until I was right beside her ear. "Are you ready to make the announcement?" I asked in Russian. I honestly wasn't, but if she was, then I'd listen and get the event started. Even if Rose hadn't arrived yet.

My mother scrutinized our guests for a few moments before replying. "We'll wait a little longer. We have time. Besides, I think there's still some more maidens that need to check in. " _Like Rose…_ She then faced me and said in Russian, "You can begin mingling with the maidens. I'll get one of your sisters to bring you back here, when I'm ready for the announcement."

Part of me didn't feel like socializing without Rose in attendance, but I knew I had to do it anyway. The annual ball needed to go on. Бабушки's vision _needed_ to be wrong. "Okay," I told my mother. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and stood up from my throne, leaving the dais to join the crowd below me.

Even though I wasn't in water, I felt like I was drowning. It was so suffocating with the maidens grabbing on my sleeve, stroking my chest, and touching my hair. It had always been this frenzied in the past, but this time felt worse. I supposed it was because my heart had already selected a special someone.

After covering up my overwhelmed state with polite smiles, I decided to talk to some maidens who were keeping their distance. I walked over to Lady Alberta Petrov, a middle-aged noblewoman who owned an estate a few miles away from the palace. She was very smart and independent, and I'd come to know her when she attended the last, two annual balls. She had taken over her father's business when he had died, and she wasn't planning on getting married.

Alberta still liked to attend my family's ball, though. She thought it was a relaxing way to welcome the new year.

I smiled wider, offering her an embrace. "It's so great to see you again, Lady Petrov," I greeted in Russian. "You look very lovely this evening." It was no exaggeration. Her scarlet-red dress flowed to the marble floor and had elaborate, gold patterns that sparkled from the lighting.

She curtsied and smiled back, the skin around her gray eyes engraved with wrinkles. "Likewise, your imperial highness." Alberta then said in Russian, "You look incredibly dashing," as she surveyed my ornate attire. Her eyes widened once she noticed my headpiece. "My goodness, that is quite an accessory! I wonder how long that took to make…"

I chuckled. "Trust me, it took quite a long time." It had taken a week for the designer to finalize the design, and the crafting took even longer, once my head had been measured.

Alberta nodded. She took a glass of champagne from a waiter, who was carrying them around on a silver tray. After she took a few sips, she asked, "Are you excited about possibly finding a bride?"

"I am. I think it's time that I settle down. My mother has had the throne for a while, and I know she wants to retire," I replied. "Hopefully, I'm able to choose a maiden this time." My mind instantly drifted to Rose. I seriously hoped she was the one I picked tonight; I wanted her so much.

I didn't think I could choose anyone else, if she never showed up.

Alberta smiled warmly. "I'm certain you will, my prince. I have absolute faith." My mind immediately went to бабушки's vision. _The one you love most will be vanquished…_ As much as I was trying to be faithful about everything turning out fine, those thoughts kept coming back to haunt me. Why couldn't they just fade away and leave me alone?

Was having a perfect night too much to ask?

"Me too," I partially lied, forcing a convincing smile. I then bowed to Alberta and kissed her hand. "I should go mingle with the other maidens. You know, the ones who actually plan on getting married," I teased.

She laughed. "Of course, Cesarevich Dimitri. It was a pleasure talking to you," she said as she curtsied. I gave her one last smile before walking away.

Fifteen minutes must've passed while I had conversed with Alberta, and my mother hadn't ordered me back to the dais yet. I decided to have briefer conversations with some other maidens I knew, just in case she happened to call me over. Fifteen more minutes went by until I felt a hand on my arm.

"Dimka." I turned my head and found Karolina's chocolate-brown eyes staring back at me. She gave me a knowing look. "Мать is about to make the announcement." I nodded and followed her after excusing myself, weaving my way through the throng of colorful bodies, trying to keep track of Karolina's long, amethyst-colored gown.

We finally arrived at our thrones, and I took my seat. Before my mother had a chance to speak, I swept the crowd for Rose's face one, final time. _Please let Roza be here…_ A few moments went by, and sadly, I didn't see her.

 _No…_

I sighed and nodded to my mother, who was patiently waiting to start the event. She nodded back.

Like the amazing empress she was, my mother rose with poise, causing our guests to cease chattering. With kindness twinkling in her dark eyes, she announced, "Thank you all for coming to support my son on his journey to marriage and rulership. We hope that you enjoy this wonderful evening, and may one of you lovely ladies have the honor of wedding my son."

Our guests curtsied and clapped in response.

My mother smiled. "Without further ado, please take turns enjoying a traditional, formal Russian dance with Cesarevich Dimitri." She sat down, arranging her navy-blue, heavily embroidered gown so that it perfectly flowed down her throne. Before I stood up, my mother grabbed my arm and leaned in close. Her eyes swirled with concern. "Are you all right, Dimka? You seem a little solemn," she asked.

As much as I was trying my hardest to be in a good mood, ignoring everything that could go in a downward spiral just wasn't working. My mind kept drifting back to Бабушка's vision, and now that I thought about it, Prince Adrian and Princess Sydney. I wanted so badly for it all to _stop_ , but it seemed like they weren't going to leave me alone that easily.

"I'm fine, мать," I partially lied. I gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and rubbed her hand before she had a chance to say anything. I felt the weight of her gaze on my back as I left the dais and joined the maidens on the ballroom floor. Giving them a glorious smile, I feigned interest as I began dancing with a princess who volunteered to be with me first.

Princess Natalie Dashkov was a nice—she was also a bit awkward—maiden that looked Rose's age, but she was no match for the girl who held my heart. She showered me with numerous compliments and babbled about everything she knew about Russian history, most likely to impress me. It was irritating listening to Princess Natalie ramble, but I was able to get through the dance without seeming rude.

I danced with more maidens afterwards, imagining Rose as the one being twirled and dipped all around the ballroom. I felt a little guilty pretending to be interested in all these ladies; they had spent so long looking pretty for tonight and had such high hopes of becoming my wife, but I couldn't even bring myself to return their affections. I was certain that if I could, my life would be much easier.

 _Everyone's_ lives would be much easier.

Once I finished dancing with a lord's daughter, I was surprised to find Lissa step forward. She looked stunning in her sleek, lavender gown. Her platinum-blond hair seemed to shimmer underneath the chandeliers. "Good evening, Cesarevich Dimitri," she greeted, curtsying. "May I have this dance?"

I smiled and bowed. "Likewise, Lissa." I held out my hand, and when she placed hers in mine, we began dancing. I was glad to finally be in the company of someone I tolerated, but I still wished Rose was here. As of matter of fact, she should've been standing somewhere nearby, but as my eyes scanned the crowd, I only found Jill and Lord Mazur.

Worry crept into my bones, and Lissa must've sensed it, for she asked, "Is something the matter, Cesarevich Dimitri?" Her jade-green eyes held both curiosity and concern.

"Where's Rose?" I continued searching wildly, as if she'd somehow appear. "Why isn't she here?"

"She's at our lodge chamber. My stepfather said she had to fetch something, but we were about to be late for the ball, so we just left without her," Lissa casually said.

My heart dropped as my blood ran cold. The chandeliers' light glared from above, blinding my vision in blur of white. The music that filled the ballroom became a cacophony plaguing my ears. My feet stumbled atop the marble floors as it forgot the steps to the dance. Rose was at the lodge all by herself? Why hadn't her family just waited for her? What if Tasha found her there and harmed her? What if she was…dead?

 _Oh my god…_

Despite my enormous fear, I found my voice. "We have to go." I stopped the dance altogether and pulled Lissa to where Jill and Lord Mazur stood. Everyone in the ballroom gasped at my abruptness, staring in confusion and disbelief, but I didn't care. The ball would have to wait or just end early.

Rose was my highest priority right now.

Once I reached Jill and Lord Mazur, he immediately began questioning me. His chestnut-brown eyes swam with countless emotions. "Cesarevich Dimitri, what on earth is going on? Why are you so panicked?" I let go of Lissa's arm, and she ran over to her stepfather, clutching him just like her sister.

"You need to come with me to the lodge. Rose is in trouble," I said with a trembling voice, my mouth dry. This was the second time I'd ever felt such fear. The first had been when my mother was motionless on her bedchamber floor, after my father had beat her into unconsciousness.

Rose's father jerked with shock, but I saw his tanned face pale with fear. "What makes you think she's in trouble?" His voice was so low, I almost didn't hear him.

"I don't have time to explain. We need to leave now!" Rose's family shrank at my urgent tone, and they wordlessly nodded, hurrying behind me as I practically ran out of the ballroom. I heard my mother and sisters calling after me, but I ignored their voices and kept running, letting the sound of my pounding footsteps overpower my ears.

My lungs were burning by the time I got outside. The cold, wintry air hit my face and chilled my bones, yet that did nothing to stop me. I jumped onto the first carriage I saw, startling the horses that were attached to its front. Gripping the reins, I held them in place as Rose's family caught up. When they reached me, they sent me crazed looks as nearby coachmen shouted our way.

"Get in!" I ordered.

They swiftly climbed into the carriage, and we sped off.

* * *

When we arrived at the lodge, Lissa and Jill tied the horses to a nearby post while Lord Mazur and I ran inside. The warm air felt wonderful against my freezing body, but I had no time to appreciate as absolute fear and adrenaline coursed through me. We bolted up the stairs until we reached their floor, and Lord Mazur quickly took out their chamber key once we stood in front of the mahogany door.

"Hurry!" I pressured.

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

As soon as the lock clicked, I shoved the door open, paying it no attention as it slammed against the wall. I ran into the parlor then observed our surroundings, once I came to a halt. Nothing seemed out of place; the polished, vintage furniture was unbroken and undisturbed. However, the atmosphere was eerily silent, and I had an unnerving feeling that Бабушки's vision had come true.

"We should check the bedchambers," Lord Mazur suggested, coming to stand beside me. I wordlessly nodded and robotically walked to a closed door that Rose was probably behind. Clutching the cold knob, I turned it and sighed in relief. I looked at Rose's father, as if it'd lend me courage, before I cautiously went into the bedchamber with him on my trail.

My gaze immediately went to Rose's hanging body, and I nearly fainted and passed out. She appeared so lifeless and violated as she slightly swung from the elaborate chandelier the noose was tied to. Tears cascaded down my cheeks as my eyes settled upon her pale, naked flesh; vicious wounds covered her skin, either oozing dark red blood or hardening into scabs. Blue-black bruises robbed her flawlessness.

The urge to vomit washed over me, and I dropped to the floor, bending over to release the contents in my stomach. Yet, nothing came out, and I shakily stood up, wiping my face.

"I can't believe this…" Lord Mazur sobbed as he shuffled over to Rose. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her scarred abdomen. "My little girl is gone. Who could've done this to her?"

A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn't answer him. I wanted to respond so badly, but the words just wouldn't leave my mouth. I slowly walked over to Rose, keeping my gaze away from her battered body, so I could free her from the noose. As she started to fall, I tightly embraced her and carefully brought us to the floor, cradling her like an infant.

Lord Mazur sobbed even harder, his cries echoing throughout the lodge chamber. I almost didn't notice Lissa and Jill run into the bedchamber, but their footsteps and gasps were loud enough for me to hear. I simply looked at them as they saw Rose's motionless form in my arms. Lissa fainted and Jill backed into a wall, sliding to the floor with a traumatized expression contorting her young face.

I wanted to tend to them…but I didn't.

I couldn't leave Rose.

"She's dead, Cesarevich Dimitri," Lord Mazur managed to say. "My precious daughter is dead…"

I forced myself to look at Rose, and another round of cries wracked my body. I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid…How could I've ignored Бабушка's vision? She had never been wrong, throughout all my twenty four years on this earth. If I'd just canceled the ball like she'd told me, if I'd just kept Rose safe...If I'd never even fallen in love with her to begin with, none of this would've happened.

This was all my fault.

Now, I had to spend the rest of life with a woman I didn't even love. Now, I had to be constantly reminded of Rose's tragic demise. Now, Lord Mazur and Rose's stepsisters were going to hate me forever. Now, I was going to burn in the fiery pits of Hell when death claimed me.

I most _certainly_ deserved each of those punishments, and I was _never_ going to forgive myself for putting Rose into harm's way by loving her.

"I'm sorry, Roza," I wailed. "I'm terribly, truthfully sorry." I knew apologizing to her was pointless, but I needed to express the guilt that was consuming me. I needed her family to hear me say this.

Out of my periphery, I saw Jill move over to Lissa, attempting to awaken her. Lord Mazur quieted his sobs and came over to me, grazing Rose's brutalized skin with trembling fingers. When they touched her chest, a sliver of curiosity crossed his features. "I'm going to try something," he said. I automatically knew what he meant.

Lord Mazur pressed his hand into Rose's left breast, and after a few seconds, his bloodshot eyes widened in disbelief. Tears ran down his pale face again, but this time, he was happy and relieved. My guilt instantly transformed into hope. I slowly asked, "She's alive?" _Please say yes…Please say yes…_

He nodded, smiling. My heart burst with joy. "Yes, Cesarevich Dimitri. She's alive."

* * *

 **Hurray! Rose is alive!**

 **Before I uploaded this chapter, I made some changes. I decided to break the story into three parts, so the next chapter will be posted as the beginning of Part Three. We have ten chapters left. Also, I revised phrases and put in more accurate vocabulary, but that still needs to be finished. I even put in an Abe POV in Ch 5, so you can go back to read his thoughts on his new marriage (thanks for the advice, ally772! XD). I slightly altered some chapter titles and the story summary. I also updated my profile, so you can now refer to that for info on story updating schedules. Lastly, Ch 25 will be posted next weekend.**

 **Once again, I'm terrible sorry for not leaving a warning. In the future, I will see to it that you guys know if I'm not able to write for a long time.**

 **Until next time...**


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